


In You I Trust

by robogreaser



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Beforus, Cybernetics, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Physical Abuse, Physical Disability, Pre-Scratch, Robotics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-21
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2017-12-30 02:48:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 32,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1013163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robogreaser/pseuds/robogreaser
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Horuss Zahhak has come of age and must now move to live with his ancestor and begin his studies to become a proper troll. Rufioh Nitram is a runaway caring for a gaggle of wrigglers and attempting to keep up a failing matespritship. Horuss is a troll of nobility. Rufioh is an outcast. </p><p>But they find each other regardless and nothing stays the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Most castles don’t have robotics labs in the dungeon. Most castles aren’t littered with art devoted to horses. Most castles aren’t built specifically for those of blue blood.

Well that’s not true.

But a Zahhak’s blood was literally the purest shade of cobalt. Blue was such a great color, and that wasn’t up for debate.

Most tree houses weren’t home base for a band of misfit adolescents. Most tree houses weren’t bursting at the seams with bootlegged animes and manga. Most tree houses aren’t built to hide a bunch of runaways from blueblooded snobs.

Except this one.

And a Nitram is the king of this ramshackle castle. Whether or not he was a good king is up for debate.

*

_Punctuality is of the utmost importance. One must be punctual for their lessons, their engagements and their duties. If one is not punctual, then one is a failure as a troll. Failure is not tolerated._

It was an old textbook on etiquette. Regardless of its age, it was still the standard for a young highblood’s upbringing. Horuss read in utter silence as his lusus continued to polish every white surface in the salon.

_Lessons, whether they are arranged and carried out my one’s ancestor or another adult troll, are a cornerstone of any adolescent’s transition into adulthood. Without the presence of these lesson’s the order and stability of highblood society would begin to deteriorate. That will not be tolerated._

Horuss continued reading even as his lusus moved on to the next room. The salon was in pristine condition. Every floorboard, end table and handcrafted molding was cleaned and glowing. Authour would never let Horuss begin his lessons with a bad first impression. He moved like a ghost through the monochromatic salon and living quarters, blending in effortlessly with the all-white décor.

_Lessons, as the cornerstone in the transition to adulthood, have been formulated to produce the best results with the least amount of failure. During this timeframe, a young troll with be cleansed of wriggler-like tendencies such as frivolity, excessive emotions that may hinder societal responsibilities, and disobedience. If a young troll is incapable of this transition, culling may be required. Such a disgraceful outcome is not tolerated from those of esteemed pedigrees._

Horuss uncrossed and re-crossed his ankles like a proper gentleman.

_Lessons are conducted at the discretion of the adult troll. Although they may vary, the standard lessons begin with tutelage on behavior in social settings and cycle through career guidance, royal duties, everyday etiquette, history lessons and whatever else the adult troll may find necessary for the growth and betterment of the young highblood. It is expected of the young highblood to excel in these lessons. Failure will not be tolerated._

Horuss looked up at the sound of Authour opening the door in the foyer. There were echoing footsteps and a slight murmur of voices. It was time. Horuss gently closed his book and set it on the coffee table. He stood and smoothed out his shirt, waistcoat and jacket.

This was it. Now was the time to meet the ancestor.

Authour led the two visitors into the salon where Horuss stood, his sunglasses shielding him from the early morning sun bouncing off all the glossy white of the room. He stood straight as his ancestor and the Heiress entered the salon.

“Welcome to my hive, Your Highness and my esteemed ancestor. I am Horuss Zahhak. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Horuss said before giving a slight bow at the waist. “Please make yourself comfortable.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the heiress said before abandoning her duties to look for the kitchen. The two Zahhaks watched her leave before proceeding.

“It is an honor to finally meet you my liege,” Horuss said, taking a step forward. He took his ancestor’s outstretched hand and kissed his knuckles.

“The pleasure is mine. I am The Cyberist, Darkleer, Duke of West Alternia. As you may know, I shall be returning home with you under my proverbial wing. I hope you find me an acceptable person for your tutelage.”

“Yes, very much so. I have heard of your contributions towards the Empire’s betterment and your extensive success in your private endeavors. You are the epitome of the perfect troll my liege and it shall be my honor to take up residence with you.”

“You two uptight weirdos done?” a voice shouted out across the hive. “I gotta get back to my swanky pad before eleven.” The Heiress appeared in the doorway to the salon with a glass of something fizzy in one hand. She reclined on the doorframe.

“Dear Heiress, the Empress entrusted me with your wellbeing for today. Such mannerisms are not fitting a young Royal such as yourself.”

“Oh bite me, Mr. Muscles.” The Heiress took a swig of her drink before continuing. “I ain’t got time for your uptight bullshittery. Let’s get going already.”

“If you insist Your Highness, I shall have my lusus ready my things for the move at a more convenient time. I am ready to go if that is your wish, dear ancestor,” Horuss said. He folded his fingers together behind his back to hide his sweaty palms and fidgeting fingers.

“If that is what the Heiress wishes,” Cyberist Darkleer said.

“Yeah, that’s what this lady wants. Let’s get this blue train of snobbery out of the station,” she said before gulping down the last of her drink. She dropped the crystal glass on a tray Horuss’ lusus was holding. She strode to the front door and left without another word.

“Authour, please have my essentials with you when you arrive at the Duke’s residence tomorrow. The household will instruct you as to how you will go about moving the furniture and fixtures to the Duke’s residence when we are settled in.” Horuss gave a curt nod to his lusus who bowed in return.

Horuss stepped over to the white centaur and gave him a quick hug. Cyberist Darkleer stifled a gasp at the uncouth gesture but kept quiet for the sake of sentimentality. Horuss released his now-bruising lusus and returned to his ancestor’s side.

“Shall we proceed to your estate?” Horuss asked his ancestor. The troll towered over him as he nodded and led Horuss through the white foyer and out the front door.

Horuss tried his absolute hardest not to stop and look back, but as he crossed the threshold he turned. He looked at his all-white hive, his only home ever, and bit his lip. Something stirred in his throat and it hurt.

The Cyberist was having none of it though. “The young sir will stifle such trivial nonsense this instant and proceed to the car,” he barked. Horuss straightened his back and followed the older troll to the black car in the road.

He passed his intricate garden of white tulips and gardenias. He stepped down the stairs to the road and entered The Cyberist’s chauffeured car. It was black and sleek and was designed after the aesthetics of a cresting wave. It was rumored to be a make preferred by the Empress’s inner circle. The Heiress was already in her private motorcar further up the road.

Horuss took his seat to the right of his ancestor and shook a little as the chauffer closed the door with the tinted window, He looked out to his hive’s façade, the white limestone all but blending in with his lusus in the doorway watching him. A tear came to his eye.

Horuss removed his glasses to wipe away the stain on his visage.

The Cyberist grabbed his hand. “I will not tolerate such indecency from you. Do you understand? Such frivolous emotions are unwarranted and hinder your productivity. Stop this crying at once,” the Cyberist shook Horuss before releasing his hand.

“Of course sir! I completely understand. I will do my absolute best to fulfill your wishes,” Horuss said with a cracking voice.

Horuss Zahhak was six sweeps old. There was no time for frivolity any longer. He was on the cusp of adulthood and he should have acted like it. Crying was a wriggler’s game. Emotion was wriggler’s domain. He was beyond that now.


	2. Chapter 2

The Cove was the best place to hide and unwind after a day in the trees. Nothing beat the shade under the conifers right by the water’s edge. Nothing. The air was still and just humid enough to require laziness. The sand was grainy under his bare feet. It stuck to his grey skin, flushed bronze by the sun.

Rufioh leaned up against the boulders along the beach and propped a manga up against his legs.

_You will not defeat me Korosensei!/ Who said I wanted to defeat you? I just want to destroy the world./ EXACTLY MY POINT! Stupid octopus!_

Rufioh snickered. He turned the page as the fresh water lapped up against his toes. He grabbed a warm can of soda out of his bag and opened it. It was warm, yes, but still fizzy enough to hold him over until evening.

_Take THAT! And THIS! And some of THESE!/ Your attempts are rather futile my student. Let me help you better your attacks. Your lessons have clearly not made a difference in your approach./ What’s that supposed to mean!?/ You suck._

Rufioh choked on his drink as he read. The artist was making serious strides in this new series. The draftsmanship was leaps and bounds ahead of his previous works. He couldn’t wait until the anime was produced.

“HEY! Ruuuuuuufioooooooooh!” a child-like voice called out over the trees and rocks of The Cove. Rufioh seized up. He snapped his head around and noticed a four sweep old rustblood searching the cove for his leader.

Rufioh couldn’t take it. Not today. He stuffed his manga in his bag, chugged the last of his soda and fluttered up into a nearby tree.

“How hard is it to find a freaking fairy Hubbin? Huh? Look harder! Damara said he’d be at The Cove,” a jadeblooded girl, maybe a sweep older than Hubbin said as she rounded the rock where Rufioh was hiding before.

“Crap… What’s dollface need now?” Rufioh muttered as je fluttered to another tree branch. He contemplated dropping in on Hubbin and Azedak and going back to the Tree-ring with them. He decided against it immediately. There’d be too much fanfare and crowing for his taste.

He jumped and flew from tree to tree, keep ing out of sight and earshot from his crew. He knew Damara had something important to say, as she usually did, but he didn’t want to go through the ordeal of letting everyone know.

Several dozen trees later he landed on the platform to Damara’s tree-hive, making no more noise than a beetle breaking wind. He parted the curtain she used as her door and set his bag down.

“Hey Damz! Where you at dollface?” he called out.

“ ~~I’m right over here flyboy,~~ ” she responded. Damara megido was kneeling at a table in the corner readying a little porcelain tea set. “ ~~You almost missed tea again today Rufioh. I would’ve been very sad had that happened.~~ ”

“Oh Damz, I’m sorry I missed yesterday. I was out getting food for the rest of the crew. You do realize that’s not the easiest thing in the world. I mean, I got to jump up and down the mean streets of the city dodging the Empress’s culling enforcers and still have to manage to—”

“ ~~I know it’s not easy. I also know you are constantly struggling to support everyone here. That is precisely why I wish you would take a moment to simply relax with me. We don’t ever get a second to ourselves,~~ ” Damara said. She poured him a cup of tea and beckoned him over. Rufioh sighed in recognition of his defeat and sat down beside his matesprit.

Rufioh kept his smile up and sweet talked Damara as their teatime carried on. She blushed every time he’d mention how dashing she looked or compliment her maroon sefuku. She complimented how he styled his hair and how he managed to keep his clothes clean.

When the tea was all gone she draped a lazy hand over his shoulder and he lifted her up to the rooftop. That was their thing: tea and then a little flight. His wings fluttered and she buried her face in Rufioh’s neck in mock fright.

“Chill out Damz, you’ve flown with me a shit ton of times. This ain’t nothing new,” he said. He rolled his eyes as she clung tighter to him. The landed on the rough-hewn boards as the sun began sinking westward.

“It is so lovely spending time with you Rufioh,” Damara said as they watched some birds flit through the branches.

“Uh huh,” Rufioh said absent-mindedly. He had unfurled his manga as Damara laid her head in his lap. She couldn’t see him flip through the fading pages. He mussed her hair with one hand and handled his comics with the other. It was a perfect use of his time, to him at least.

When the manga was all good and read Rufioh sighed and sat Damara up. Now was as good a time as any to break the news. “Damz?”

“ ~~Yes my love?~~ ”

“Last night’s hunt didn’t go so well. I’m afraid I had to cut out my ration for dinner so the new kids could eat. That means you’re going to have to have dinner alone. I’m sorry Damz,” Rufioh said. Damara sat straighter and glared at Rufioh.

“ ~~We could always share my dinner ration. It wouldn’t be the first time,~~ ” Damara said. The menace in her voice barely hidden and Rufioh leaned back.

“No, no, doll, I’m fine. We had tea and I found some blueberries earlier this morning. I’m fine. You enjoy dinner tonight. Besides, you’ve earned a quiet night to yourself. Don’t worry about me none.”

“ ~~I’m not worried about you Rufioh. I’m worried about these three dozen or so runaways we’ve suddenly become lusii for. If you can’t keep them fed they’ll either starve or leave for the culling enforcers. And if one of them goes we’ll all end up on some highblood’s leash. I’m not letting that happen,~~ ”

Rufioh bit his lip. Her reaction was sour and he knew unless he pulled some magic out of thin air, she;d be this sour for the next five hundred sweeps. He wouldn’t survive.

“Don’t you worry none!” Rufioh said, his face lighting up as a brilliant plan began hatching in his mind. “There’s rumors floating about that the Duke has moved to his country estate. It ain’t far from here and if my sources are to be trusted, and babe, you know they are, then that means he’s got his descendant in tow. You know how those blue snobs love to throw parties for when they start their lessons.

“Just think: a bunch of royal big wigs, throwing a party, on a massive estate right at the edge of our territory. Hell Damz, we’ll be swimming in good food for a sweep and a half if we pulled off a heist at this place,” Rufioh said, beaming.

“ ~~Do you think you’ll be able to pull it off?~~ ” Damara asked. He scowl was dissipating now and Rufioh chuckled, knowing he could get away with anything now.

“Of course I can. I run this crew. I’m the leader of the Lost Weeaboos. I can do anything I need to,” Rufioh said, puffing out his chest and smiling. Damara giggled.

“ ~~In that case then, I won’t worry. If you pull this off, I won’t be eating dinner alone for a while,~~ ” she said. She pulled her matesprit into a hug and he suppressed a groan.

He’d never get a minute to himself with this girl around. He was happy to have a matesprit, but now, at this point, they were only doing it for the crew. They cheered when the two of them would hatch a new plan in front of the crowd. They’d cheer whenever Rufioh would land in their circles with his arm slung around her waist. They’d cheer whenever he’d plant a kiss on her delicate East Alternian lips.

Rufioh though, deep inside, was tired. He was beyond that now.


	3. Chapter 3

The Cyberist Darkleer’s manor stood on a simple country estate sprawling over several hundred acres near the mountains. Horuss watched the trees and the clouds and the insignificant hives pass by the speeding car.

He refrained from making so much as a mumble of disappointment or sigh to how boring the drive was. The Cyberist tinkered away at the little communicator imbedded in his suit. The driver was just another faceless midblood to them.

Horuss took to counting the trees until they arrived at the manor.

As if the ride were uneventful enough, the arrival was worse. The Cyberist Darkleer exited the vehicle without a word and strode through the front doors. Horuss was slower. He tried to take in the sprawling expanse of property, the stonework and iron gates and intricate carvings, but it was too much. Horuss head spun at the regality of his new home.

Horuss stumbled a bit as he exited the car. He straightened out and looked to the manor. A short, curvy, cerulean blooded girl stood in the doorway watching him. She waved. Horuss waved back. No one had told him the Cyberist Darkleer was raising any other trolls. It wasn’t uncommon for a highblood to take on more than one prodigy, but Horuss had assumed that with Darkleer’s close ties with the Empress, that he wouldn’t have to.

The girl strode over to him as a few servants began unloading the car “Hello, I’m Aranea. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said, her voice falling on deaf ears.

Horuss was too busy watching the servants. There was a variety of lusii mixed in with trolls, ranging anywhere between rust and olive. Horuss turned to Aranea. “I’m so sorry Miss, my mind was elsewhere.  My name is Horuss, it is nice to meet you,” Horuss said, giving a short bow.

“Have you been to Sir Darkleer’s estate before? It’s quite a lot to take in all at once if you don’t have a proper tour guide.” Aranea said with a smile.

“Do I detect an offer in the making?” Horuss asked.

“Why, I do believe you do,” Aranea said, giving a little nod of her head before turning and entering the estate, beckoning Horuss to follow her with a wave of her hand. “Come along.”

Horuss followed.

*

Aranea’s tour of the country estate took all of the rest of the day. It was very close to dinner when the two trolls strolled by The Cyberist Darkleer’s expansive pool. It stretched for several dozen yards out from a portico and into his immaculate lawn. At the far end an infinity edge gave it the appearance of seamlessly blending into the lawn. Horuss cracked his first smile as the evening lights turned on and the water and lawn were bathed in ambient lighting.

“Almost all of the exterior on this side of the manor is new additions made by Sir Cyberist himself. You can tell by the minimalistic design. It’s one of his favorite aesthetics. I see you enjoy it as well,” Aranea said.

Horuss nodded. “Quite much. You have to admire such flawless craftsmanship. I take it as such an honor to be living here with my ancestor,” Horuss said.

“As do I,” Aranea commented, leaning against a pillar.

“I do have one question though, Miss,” Horuss said, turning to his hostess. “The Cyberist Darkleer is my ancestor. I never knew he was taking a prodigy other than myself into his care. How did you come to live here?”

“Oh well that’s an interesting tale indeed,” Aranea said, her eyes lighting up at the thought of telling a story. “To be honest, I have only been living here for the better half of the last perigee. You see, The Cyberist and my ancestor were often lingering in the pale quadrant in their youth and, as such, The Cyberist, in lieu of my ancestor’s demise, agreed to become my mentor as well as to his own descendant. 

“My ancestor, a troll who fell into the wrong crowd quite easily, became a criminal in the eyes of our esteemed Empress. She was executed several sweeps before my hatching. She had conspired with some other sea-faring ne’er-do-wells to commit atrocious acts of violence against several nobles, including The Cyberist’s one-time matesprit. It was all quite scandalous. Regardless, I think I’m better off in my current situation than I would have been under the tutelage of some pirate,” Aranea said, standing up straight. Horuss looked on with wide eyes as she finished her tale.

“That is quite scandalous indeed. I’m surprised The Cyberist would even take you in considering what had transpired.” Horuss said.

Aranea chuckled. “The Cyberist is nothing if not a man of his word. He treats me well enough so I don’t really put too much stock or though into what transpired between my ancestor and him. Regardless,” Aranea changed the subject with a sigh. “I do believe it is almost time for dinner. Let us make haste, The Cyberist does not take kindly to tardiness.”

“Let’s,” Horuss said, offering Aranea his elbow.

*

The dining room was furnished in a manner more in tow with the classic architecture of the manor. The three trolls stood out like a very grey sore thumb among all the glistening white and gilded fixtures as they ate. The food was scrumptious.

Horuss didn’t have much of an appetite. He declined a second helping from a lusii servant and drank water and remained quiet. Aranea talked at length about her upcoming lessons. The Cyberist Darkleer nodded in silence, ate, and checked his communicator in his suit.

Horuss heaved a light sigh. “Sir?”

The Cyberist looked up. “Yes my descendant?” he asked. It was the most he had said the entire time.

“I would like to ask you when my lessons shall commence? I would hate to think I am wasting time while my belongings are in transit from my hive to here. It would be unfortunate if I do not make the most of my time here with you.” Horuss set his flatware down and looked at his ancestor. Horuss didn’t know whether or not The Cyberist would take kindly to his bold question, and thus, Horuss waited with baited breath for the reaction.

“Horuss, although I do admire your ambition and desire to use your time wisely, our lessons will not begin until we discuss your intended field of study and your introduction into society is complete. The plans for your ‘ball,’ so to speak, have been in the works for several weeks. The event will be tomorrow night.” The Cyberist said. There was a slight upward turn of the corner of his mouth. Horuss realized, with that fraction of a smile on his ancestor’s face, how attractive the man was. And how kind.

Horuss realized how lucky he was to be living with this amazing man.

“Sir,” Aranea spoke up. “If you would like me to leave so that you and your descendant may discuss his intended studies, than I shall. I have had enough to eat and I must take some time for my studies. If I may?” Aranea asked, a bow of her head indicating her desire to leave.

“You may go young Miss. Please do practice your viola lessons in earnest. You shall be preforming with the orchestra at Horuss’ introduction. You are dismissed.” The Cyberist said with a save of his hand. Aranea rose, curtsied, and scurried out of the dining hall.

“Sir? Do you wish to discuss my studies over dinner?” Horuss asked.

“I do not mind it. I have put in order all of today’s affairs and I find eating without some sort of distraction dreadfully boring,” The Cyberist said, taking a sip from his goblet. “Tell me what you intend to learn under my tutelage.”

“Well sir, I have given it some serious thought for several weeks and I would like to ask of you to teach me in the field of robotics,” Horuss said, wringing his hands in his lap.

The Cyberist froze and a genuine smile spread on his face. “That is a magnificent choice my young lad. Magnificent indeed.”

Horuss’ anxieties over the subject deflated. He gave a small smile of his own. “I thank you for saying so, sir,”

“Are there any other fields of study you would like to pursue while here?” The Cyberist said, still smiling.

“May I pursue other fields?” Horuss asked.

“Of course. Miss Aranea is pursuing an education in literature, music and fencing. You may educate yourself in as many fields as you would like,”

Horuss froze, almost unable to contain his joy. He never thought he would have such an opportunity, even as a cobalt-blooded troll. Perhaps the Heiress, but never anyone lower, could pursue such a potentially vast education. Horuss grinned.

“Enough of that!” The Cyberist barked, noticing Horuss large smile. “That is an unacceptable display of primal emotion. You are better than that Horuss. You are a Zahhak and you will act as such. Contain yourself or I may have to fetch my paddle.”

Horuss’ smile vanished. “As you wish sir. I apologize for my unsightly gesture. I will try my best to never let it happen again.”

“Good.” The Cyberist said, his own slight smile gone. “I would like for you to finish your dinner and head to bed. It is best you sleep on your choices in terms of education. You are to be able to tell the guests at your introduction what you intend to study. Do I make myself clear?” The Cyberist asked.

“Very clear, sir,” Horuss said. Horuss ate the rest of what was on his plate, a rather delicious, but now unappetizing roast. He cleared his throat. “I am finished with my dinner. May I be excused for the night?” he asked.

“Yes. Good night Horuss,” The Cyberist said with a wave of his hand. He was busy with the communicator in his sleeve and did not look up.

Horuss stood, bowed, and walked to the door out of the dining hall, hesitating to see if his ancestor would acknowledge him any further. He did not.

Horuss made his way out and down an electric-lantern lit corridor. He bit his lip, wishing he could give his lusus a kiss goodnight before going to bed. But now, in this vast manor full of calm and collected and emotionally distant troll nobility, Horuss would have to do without a goodnight kiss from now on.

Horuss pinched himself. He should not cry. That was an unacceptable display of primal emotion.


	4. Chapter 4

Late afternoon sun poured through the tree tops and laced the ground in shadow. Rufioh and Damara stood on a massive tree stump in front of their group, staring over all of them as they explained their plot.

“…and as such The Duke Cyberist Darkleer will be celebrating his descendant’s introduction to the Beforan court tonight. So, as you might have guessed, we’re going to eat like kings!” Rufioh shouted over his ragtag team of urchins. A chorus of Ru-fi-ohhh erupted. He grabbed Damara by the waist and flew up and over the crowd, landing on a platform outside his hive.

“ _ ~~Rufioh~~_ ~~! Calm down, we have to explain our plan to the crew,~~ ” Damara whined as Rufioh heaved her into the air.

“Calm down. We’ll wing it. The Lost Boys always know what to do. We always succeed. And we never get caught. Chill dollface. We’re gonna do great,” Rufioh said, planting a kiss on her cheek for the whole crew to witness. A roar of cheers erupted from the young trolls below. Damara blushed a robust shade of burgundy and ducked her head to avoid the group’s gaze.

“ ~~Rufioh… was that really necessary?~~ ”

“Absolutely. Nothing gets everyone good and going like you and me playing house. C’mon now… we have plans to hatch…” he flashed a toothy grin and led her inside his hive.

Light pierced through gaps in the boards and grimy Nouveau windows. The now abandoned hunting lodge of some now-dead royal troll was dusty, grimy and peeling all sorts of paint. It was home. Rufioh sighed. He flew over the spiral staircase around the massive tree trunk that lead to the lower level and landed on a couch. Damara rolled her eyes.

“ ~~What are you doing? Aren’t we going to plot things now? Like how we’re going to pull off a heist when the Duke’s place is crawling with royals and security and armed guards?~~ ” Damara asked, strolling over the couch where Rufioh lay.

He took his turn to roll his eyes, propping his feet on the table, a manga in hand. “Like we always do. I’ll distract the fancies with my chill mutation, and you’ll lead the crew into the kitchens and conduct a raid. When all is said and done, you’ll give me the signal and then I’ll fly out of there. Bing-bang-boom, not a problem in sight. You ain’t gotta worry about nothing babe.” Rufioh said, flashing another smile. “We’ve done this all before,”

“ ~~Yes, and it was also before the Duke Cyberist Darkleer moved here permanently. Remember? Before, he stayed down by the seaside conducting his diplomatic business out of earshot of us raiding his kitchens. Now he is living here with his descendant and supposedly another prodigy and he’ll be aware of our existence. We’ve got to be careful,~~ ” Damara said. Her arms were crossed, lips in a slight pout.

He groaned. “You’re such a worry-wart. Chill, doll. We’ve got this. No fancies are gonna put a damper on our grocery shopping.” Rufioh said with a wave of his hand. He turned back to his manga.

Damara whined. “ ~~Are you at least going to give me a time frame for our raid?~~ ”

“Eight o’clock.” Rufioh mumbled, eyes focused on his comic. He waved his hand again, almost too condescending for Damara. She bit her lip and returned to the Lost Boys to inform them of _her_ plan to raid the Duke’s estate.

***

Rufioh was in full regalia. Or what a bunch of runaways living in a commune in the woods would call regalia. In all honesty, it was just a pilfered soldier’s uniform a half size too big and twenty years out of fashion. Rufioh still pulled it off. Damara, in her trousers and jacket, was double checking every Lost Boy to make sure they had what they needed.

“ ~~This is going to be dangerous for everyone…~~ ” she reminded them, buttoning up Hubbin’s jacket and turning to the crowd. “ ~~The Cyberist is a very strict man and if any of us get caught we’re going to be culled.~~ ”

None of them understood her East Beforan dialect. Rufioh was relaying a lazy translation to his crew. They took a collective gasp as she mentioned culling. It was their worst nightmare.

To be culled meant to become a pet project for some stuffy coolblooded troll who was, in all honesty, looking for some cheap house work. There was this prevailing fear among lowbloods that one day they’d end up another faceless voiceless servant to some highblood with an inflated ego and hero complex. No one wanted that. Comfortable or not, the life of a troll servant was dull and monotonous and unfulfilling.

“Come on everyone!” Rufioh shouted, jumping into the air and flying down the path out of their village. “To prosperity!”

Damara rolled her eyes and led the trolls out of their clearing and down the wooden path, twilight setting in over them. It would take at least an hour and a half of walking, jogging, skipping and running to make it to the edge of the forest and to the sprawling lawns of The Cyberist’s estate.

Damara spent the time reviewing their strategy to the group while Rufioh flew branch to branch, tree to tree, whooping and hollering and communing with bats and birds. The critters would fly down among the trolls, chirping little critter songs, while Damara sighed in defeat. The only ever wanted to be goofing off. Always. No one wanted to take anything seriously.

“ ~~This is why I left the East. This. No one anywhere takes me seriously… No one even understands. Not a single troll. And you…~~ ” Damara glanced ahead to Rufioh doing barrel rolls through the tress. “ ~~You don’t even listen half of the time.~~ ”

And she was right. She muttered her mother tongue while Rufioh laughed and spun in the air, oblivious of the girl filled with discontent below. Rufioh broke through the last of the trees and soared up into the deep cobalt space above Darkleer’s wide, empty yard.

The palatial gardens and hardscaping was lit up for the event at hand. Rufioh took a deep breath and beamed. He and the Lost Boys would feast like royals tonight. After all, they were taking _their_ food. 


	5. Chapter 5

Horuss stepped down from the dais. He had made a very good introduction speech, and even if his hands were clammy as a deep sea mollusk and he was shaking just slightly, all had gone well. He had been introduced to high society. He had seen the Heiress and her ancestor off to the side of the room halfway through his little speech and almost stuttered.

Almost.

That was until The Cyberist pinched his elbow, hard, and brought him back to the matter at hand. Horuss Zahhak would be studying robotics, literature, archery, painting and politics. The crowd fell into a stunned silence as Horuss rambled off his list of studies. No one was quite so ambitious. The Cyberist managed a slight sliver of a smile at the reaction.

Horuss nodded and pressed through the crowd slowly, greeting and shaking hands with various seadwellers and clowns in fine suits. Soon enough he made it to the edge of the room, the Cyberist by his side. He turned and looked up at his ancestor.

“Sir? May I retire to the lavatory for a brief moment?” Horuss asked.

The Cyberist nodded. “Go. Be quick. This ball is for you my descendant, it would be inappropriate for you to up and disappear. It would also reflect poorly on your mannerisms and my character. Do make this trip quick.”

Horuss turned. He set off at a brisk pace down the mostly empty corridor leading out from the grand hall. He could have easily used the bathroom nearest the grand hall, but he opted to risk his ancestor’s ire and retreat to his room and his personal bath.

It took a whole two minutes to get to the door. He placed a hand on the knob and opened the door when it started. There was a crash and clattering and a serious of indistinct shouts.

“GET BACK HERE!” a troll screamed. “You filthy scoundrel!! Get back here and return that this instant!”

Horuss turned to see… well nothing actually. That was until the culprit of the commotion rounded the corner.

In a flash of fluttering bronze and a streak of red, a troll barreled into him and they tumbled into Horuss’ respiteblock. “Hide me dude. I mean... if you can. Or if you’re cool like that. Just… shhhh…” the stranger whispered as he forced a hand over Horuss’ mouth and the two of them tumbled along the area rug and behind the far side of Horuss’ bed.

Horuss knew better than to kick. He’d end up killing the… boy? Horuss’ eyes darted about the troll’s figure, trying to piece together who was on top of him and wrapping— _wings_ —around him. “Mm…mm-mm…”

“Shhh… dude please chill. Quiet. I ain’t ever getting caught because of a loaf of bread. Wait…” the intruder paused and notice his ill-gotten gains were missing. “Damn! I must’ve dropped that big old chuck of bread. Frick…” he cussed.

“Mmm-mm… mm-mm-mmm,” Horuss mumbled into the thief’s hand.

“Please. Be cool. It ain’t like you’re a hostage or nothing. I just need to lay low…” the intruder whispered into Horuss’ ear.

Restraining himself as best he could, Horuss yanked the hand off of his mouth. The intruder yelped. “I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you sir, but could kindly tell me what is going on?” Horuss asked. The intruder rubbed his now bruised hand, eyes welling up with tears.

“Ahh…” he hissed, still quiet, still on top of Horuss and hiding behind the bed.

“I’m very sorry if I’ve hurt you, but you attacked me and made communication impossible.” Horuss said, trying to calm the intruder down.

“Naw man, I’ve been through worse. You just got yourself a hell of a crazy grip there…” the intruder said before cutting himself off, falling silent and covering Horuss’ mouth again as the door swung open.

A ribbon of light from the corridor fell over the bed and illuminated the room for a minute as the estate’s guards checked for the pantry thief. He and Horuss, however, were hidden on the other side of the bed, obscured in shadow.

“Nothing here. He must’ve made it out to the portico by now… freaking mutant,” one guard rumbled, taking a step in.

“Get out of there, that’s the _darling little protégée’s_ chamber. We’ll be thrown in the dungeon for a week if we’re caught in there. Come on…” another guard hissed. The way she enunciated darling little protégée remind the two boys of someone mentioning fecal matter on a fine carpet.

The intruder eased off of Horuss when the door closed and the sound of footsteps faded. He looked over the bed like a meerkat and jumped up when the coast was clear. He offered Horuss his hand. Horuss nodded quietly and accepted the assistance in getting to his feet.

“I guess I should thank you for not squealing on me,” the intruder said. “The name’s Rufioh.”

“You clearly did not want the guards to find you. I would not ‘squeal’ on you, so to speak. Even if you seem to be a criminal I could never—”

“I ain’t no criminal Mr. Blueblood. I’m a Lost Boy,” Rufioh said, puffing out his chest and smiling. That was something to be proud of in his books. Horuss stared at him with a blank face.

“My name is not Mr. Blueblood. My name is Horuss Zahhak. I would appreciate it if you’d address me as such.” Horuss said, pouting ever so slightly. Rufioh shrugged and turned to waltz around the room. It wasn’t everyday he was the reluctant guest to nobility. Not that he was much of a guest. He was more like a trespasser; a very cocky, mutant, bizarre trespasser. Horuss mentally scoffed at his attire.

“Well then Horuss, I have to hand it to you, for one of these snooty royal trolls, you’re pretty laid back to having an intruder in your place.” Rufioh turned and walked back over to Horuss.

The blueblood was sweating now, looking down as this intruder—Rufioh—approached him. “Although your intrusion and blood caste besmirch the honor of this estate and my person, I can see you’re a troll in distress. Can I offer you my services?” Horuss asked.

Rufioh was taken aback. Little did he know, but a tenant of Highblood culture was charity. That was the whole concept of culling: charity with a smidgen of mercy. Horuss blinked, his dark glasses obscuring his navy eyes from Rufioh’s dumbfounded gaze.

“I broke into your fancy-shmancy kitchens to scoff bread and canned soup and you’re offering me your services? What kind of blueblood are you?” Rufioh asked.

“The kind who understands the virtues of charity.” Horuss turned to his nightstand, reaching over to turn on the electric light on his nightstand. Yeah, he was that fancy. _Electric lights_. He thought for a moment and opened the drawer. “Are you looking for food, lowblood?”

“I…” Rufioh stuttered, still amazed this Horuss fellow wasn’t off screaming for some guards to save him. And to a lesser extent, that he had electric lights.

Horuss, on the other hand, was rummaging under a small stack of books he kept to read before bed. There it was! A little golden box inlaid with some fancy scrollwork and lettering. Aranea had given them to Horuss when he first arrived at Darkleer’s estate. He didn’t much care for the contents, so in the empty drawer they went.

“I would like you to take these, lowblood. Especially if you’re hungry. I’d hate to think a troll who can’t fend for themselves would come to a noble looking for help and leave empty handed. Please take these.” Horuss presented the box to Rufioh, almost shoving them into his arms.

“I…” Rufioh stammered.

The sound of heavy, marching footsteps came from the hallway. Rufioh snapped his gaze toward the door and even Horuss could sense the aura of dread consuming this boy.

“That’s a rather peculiar mutation you have there,” Horuss whispered, trying to distract Rufioh. “You can fly, I presume?”

“I… yeah. Yeah… I can fly.” Rufioh muttered, eyes darting between Horuss and the door.

“Oh that’s truly fascinating.” Horuss sidestepped his guest and walked to the drapery on the far wall. Closed for the night, as to deter peeping toms, Horuss gently pulled them out of the way to reveal a set of intricate glass doors leading out onto the gardens. “Please come here Rufioh.”

Something in the bronze troll’s gut squirmed. A blueblood had said his name without an ounce of utter disgust? And he had just given him a… fancy box? Well it had to have had something inside.  But there was no time to check. Rufioh turned and scurried over.

“Please do make use of my door out onto the gardens. I would hate for you to be beset with anymore distress this evening. Clearly, you being detained by security would only exasperate that.” Horuss said, his face flat and his voice still barely above a whisper.

“Are you for real right now?” Rufioh asked. His eyes were wide in the dark.

“Nothing about my intentions or our current conversation is fictitious in nature Rufioh,” Horuss said.

“I can’t believe this…” Rufioh said, glancing down at the box as Horuss opened the door and let the cool night breeze blow the drapery inwards. “You’re a godsend, doll,” Rufioh smiled, leaning forward to kiss Horuss on the cheek. How else would he thank a troll?

In another flash of bronze, Rufioh flew off, up into the darkening skies.

Horuss stood there, a prominent navy blush on his cheeks, his eyes wide in the dark.


	6. Chapter 6

Rufioh Nitram had escaped the clutches of a coolblood’s manor house. He panted as he flew as fast as he could back to his tree hive miles away, nestled in the deep woods a short walk away from a big blue lake. He landed with a dull _pomf_ on the landing outside his door. A shiny gold box was nestled in his arm, a gift from a very out of character noble troll.

He strolled into his hive and shut the door with a snap. None of the rest of his crew was back yet.

“I’m such an ass. Running back here like some scared grub. Damz probably needs me…” Rufioh, muttered to himself. He slid down to the floor, back against the door, and sighed. If it weren’t for the unknown gift in his arms, tonight would have been a night Rufioh smacked himself, wrought with guilt.

But he still had the box.

***

Horuss Zahhak made quick work of using the restroom and running back to his engagement. The Cyberist Darkleer glared at him as he re-entered the room.

“You have been gone a very long time and I am highly disappointed in you,” the Cyberist said, snatching Horuss’ elbow and gripping it tight. If it weren’t for the fancy gloves inlaid with circuitry and mechanics, he would have crushed a bone or two in Horuss’ arm.

“I apologize, Sir. There was a slight delay due to activity by the guards,” Horuss said quickly, trying his hide his discomfort and fear. The Cyberist pulled Horuss off to the side of the room, away from the trolls twirling along the dance floor.

“I will hear no excuse Horuss. What you pulled is disrespectful of me and the guests here tonight. You will be punished,” the Cyberist hissed.

***

Rufioh waited in silence. His feet were hanging over the edge of the landing. He stared at the box in his lap, a lantern swinging above his head. Watching the path to the center of their shantytown, he drummed his fingers on the lid of the box in anxiety.

He looked down at the fancy gilded thing. It was pretty, no doubt. But as pretty as it was, Rufioh had trepidations about opening it. What if there was a poison gas inside? What if there was a venomous snake? Well if there was a snake, Rufioh could reach out and calm the little fellow down. But if there was poisonous gas he’d be screwed.

Something in his gut told him otherwise, something that nestled next to the trepidations and the anxiety. This strange… admiration? Yeah… it was admiration for that coolblood who kept his location secret from the guards and who gave him a very pretty present.

Rufioh nodded.

He’d open the box.

***

The Cyberist Darkleer made quick work of pulling Horuss out of the grand hall and into his study. The lights were dimmed and the room almost seemed cozy for once. But it wouldn’t for long.

“Sit.” Darkleer pointed to a stool he had placed in front of his armchair. Horus sat and looked down, his hands folded in his lap. Darkleer paced over to his desk and opened a drawer. Off came his gloves. Another pair, ones that were dark, shiny, black leather slipped on. He flexed his hands once and turned on the de-strengthening components.

Horuss turned to see this and internally winced.

This was no good.

***

Rufioh slipped the lid off of the box and set it to the side. His eyes widened and his mouth fell open in a large smile. Even in the low light under the lantern, this little mutant moth boy never could have mistaken his gift for anything else.

“ _Chocolates?!_ ” Rufioh whisper shouted. His wings fluttered in involuntary excitement. He inhaled sharply, poking one if the gourmet sweets with his pinky. He could not believe it. A highblood had given him sweets. _Sweets!_

Rufioh pulled his legs up onto the landing, closed the box, and jumped up. He flew into his hive and down around the stairs around the tree trunk and up into his bedroom. He dove next to the flimsy little nightstand and pulled out a false floorboard next to it. Away went the box of sweets.

He was still beaming.

Rufioh turned to the window and noticed a steady, bobbing stream of lanterns making their way down the main path to the center of the Lost Boy village. He turned and ran out of his hive. Leaning against the railing, he began counting. Twelve… Sixteen… Twenty-one… Twenty-eight…

Rufioh beamed. They were all there. Damara brought up the rear, a full burlap sack on her back. Rufioh looked down at the other trolls, running off to their hives. Each of them carried a satchel of stolen food. Rufioh smiled wider and waved at Damara.

He jumped from the landing and soared down to meet her. “Damara! Everyone made it!! I almost got snagged but everyone made it! And I see everyone got a good haul. Thais is so danged awesome. We did great. And right under the nose of the Empress. How awesome are—”

“ ~~Enough,~~ ” Damara snapped. “ ~~Where were you? Why did you just disappear all of a sudden? We needed you a few times and you were nowhere to be found. You’re better than that Rufioh. What if someone had gotten hurt? What if I had gotten hurt?~~ ”

“But you didn’t!”

“ ~~That’s not the point,~~ ” Damara said, leaning in and gently poking his shoulder. “ ~~I come marching back here with the Lost Boys to find you loitering about. Damn it Rufioh! You’re so much better than running from a fight. You’re better than fleeing, retreating, disappearing when your friends are fighting their butts off to find a meal. You’re better than this!~~ ”

Rufioh froze and leaned away from the onslaught of argument. “Whoa doll—”

“ ~~Don’t ‘Whoa doll’ me, Rufioh Nitram. I do my damned best with what we have, and you’re sitting around all day reading manga and floating about like some hot shot moth…~~ ” Damara paused and shook her head. “ ~~Don’t talk to me right now. I thought something horrible happened to you and come to find out, you just ran back here before making sure everyone was okay.~~ ”

“Damara…” Rufioh whined. But it was too late, she was already storming off to their shared hive, heaving the bag of food up the stairs spiraling up the trunk. Rufioh sighed.

Looking back at the little lights spilling out of the ramshackle tree hives the Lost Boys called their village, Rufioh groaned. Not too loud, of course. Damara was already displeased.

***

Horuss cried out, tears streaming down his face. The Cyberist Darkleer had him bent over one knee, butt bare to the world, his gloved hand coming down several times. Horuss’ silver flesh was glowing navy. He cried out again as his ancestor punished him for his insolence.

“You will never lie to me again. You will never emote inappropriately again. You will never question my methods of teaching you proper etiquette again. You will never make excuses for your tardiness again. Do you understand me Horuss Zahhak?”

“Yes!” Horuss cried out through all the tears.

Darkleer glared down at the boy bent over his knee. “Enough of this blubbering or I shall spank you with my bare hand.”

Horuss held his breath, fear coursing through him. “Yes, Sir.” His voice was still shaky, hitched, and all together unconvincing.

The Cyberist pursed his lips and effortlessly picked Horuss up. Setting him down in front of him, he yanked his trousers up, fastened them tight and prodded Horuss in the chest. “Stand up straight or I shall fetch a brace.”

Horuss stood rigid, his back poker straight. “Yes, Sir.”

“Head up. Wipe your face of those unsightly tear stains.” The Cyberist stood and circled Horuss, poking and prodding him to improve his posture. “I will not have you sniveling in front f our esteemed guests. Pull yourself together or you shall be punished once more.”

Horuss nodded gruffly and reached up to dab his face with his gloved fingertips. “Yes, Sir.”

The Cyberist circled Horuss and stopped in front of him. Kneeling down, the giant of a man looked Horuss in the eye. With a flash of his gloved hand, he handed Horuss a silken handkerchief. “Please use this.”

“Yes, Sir.”

The Cyberist nodded his head slightly and a small frown crossed his lips. “I do not take any enjoyment in brining you any pain. Please do not think I am a monster. All I wish is for you to do well in life. Like any ancestor.” The Cyberist heaved a sigh. “I want the best for you Horuss. And for that to happen, you must be able to navigate the world of nobility with poise and dignity. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

***

Rufioh knocked on Damara’s bedroom door. Just like he had been for the last twenty minutes. He sighed. “Doll… Damara, please open up. I want to talk. I know you’re angry, and its legit, but please hear me out.”

“ ~~I’ve heard you out more than enough times Rufioh.~~ ”

“Well I want to make sure we’re cool, you know?”

“ ~~Too bad,~~ ” Damara called through the door. “ ~~You’ll have to wait and see. Sweat it out fly boy. I’ll talk to you tomorrow morning. Or maybe I won’t. We’ll find out then.~~ ”

“Damara…” Rufioh whined.

“Don’t make me break out the telekinesis.”

Rufioh grumbled to himself for a few seconds, not loud enough to hear through the door, before dragging his sorry butt up the spiraling stairs and into his room. Slouching, grumbling, muttering and worrying were all he was capable of right now.

Moonlight poked through the window and the seams in the wooden walls. Ruifoh plopped himself into his hammock. This wasn’t fun. Nothing about that night, aside from meeting that blueblood, was fun. But that blueblood… Rufioh curled his knees to his chest and hugged himself a little.

“Heh… he was kinda cute too…” Rufioh smiled to himself. Thinking of the chocolates, he smiled wider and the worry about Damara lessened. He looked up and out the window. “It would be kinda fun to see him again…”

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

Horuss was lucky his ancestor was busy with royal affairs. The Empress’s attentions trumped any and all scolding he could get. So in lieu of standing around with a sore back end, Horuss decided to wander the garden and portico around the pool. 

A few attendants and some more drunk guests loitered around the doors, but elsewhere, where Horuss wanted to sulk away to, was vacant. He paced a bit, looked over the gardens, and pouted a bit. His ass really had been handed to him.

Not that he’d phrase it quite like that.

Sitting on a stone bench, he looked out over the pool and the garden beyond. Lights from the palace bounced off the water and the glossy leaves. Horuss huffed. He couldn’t say much. That would be improper. But _damn,_ Cyberist Darkleer was heavy handed. Literally.

“What cha up to, frond?”

Horuss jumped. Turning he saw the Heiress, decked to the nines, braids up and polished atop her head. He stood immediately and bowed.

“Your Highness…”

“Oh cut the shit blue boy. I ain’t got time for none of that nonsense. I’m bored. I just wanted to know why the big shot of the evening went and sulked off while we’re raisin’ the roof over in Zahhak-ville.” Meenah shrugged and plopped down on the bench.

Unlike most ladies of the court, Meenah had the freedom to dress as she pleased. And that meant something a little more low-cut than convention dictated. And of course, wearing something a little more masculine; a dress jacket over a dress. Or in other words: the usual Meenah fare.  Horuss would have questioned it if it were anyone other than the next in line to the Beforan throne.

“Oh… well I must admit I am feeling rather unwell. I thought instead of sullying the festivities with my shameful mood, I would withdraw to these gardens and reflect on my poor performance.” Horuss said, nodding his head forward in an attempt at a bow.

“Pfft…” Meenah scoffed, digging a cigarette out of her cleavage. Then a lighter. “Let me take a real wild guess: The Duke is using those stogy old manner manual-things as part of your fancy-shmancy ‘education’ while you’re here.” Meenah lit her cigarette. The way she had mentioned the Duke and the word education, one would think she had a bad taste in her mouth and she was trying to spit the nasty out.

Horuss nodded. “I have been reading ‘ _Etiquette as Art_ ’ since I was five. My lusus gave it to me at the Duke’s instruction.”

“Oh barf. Why do our ancestors gotta be all like that?” Meenah asked, dragging on her cigarette and blowing smoke over the peonies. “The Empress is that same way. ‘Eat this East Beforan raw fish’ and ‘Dress like a lady, not a streetwalker’ all day every day. It gets on my nerves so much. Hell… she can barely handle a Diplomat, who is she to think she can handle fashion too? And let me tell you, she can’t. I mean, really? Pastels? Eugh… Jewel tones maybe. But really, no one can make powder blue look good.”

Horuss nodded, trying to think of an adequate and appropriate response. He latched onto the political aspect. “The Diplomat you mentioned, you mean the one from East Beforus, right? I do believe my ancestor mediates The Empress’s interactions with her.”

“Hmm? Pshh yeah.” Meenah rolled her eyes and snickered a bit. “For all the adoration Miss frills and gills gets, she really can’t handle that burgundy babe, huh? The Duke is all ashen for the two of them crazy biocthes.”

“That is one way of describing it, yes,” Horuss said. “I think it’s a little more professional than that though. The Cyberist Darkleer is a very professional man. Especially in quadrant matters.”

“Says you,” Meenah laughed.

“Pray tell, what do you mean by that?” Horuss asked.

“Well…” Meenah dragged on her cigarette for a while before answering. “You do know his kismesis is a goldblood, right? And his moirail is an olive.”

“There is nothing wrong with engaging warm bloods in such quadrants.”

“Sure, but his old matesprit was a bronze.”

Horuss froze. His eyes went wide. That was so unbelievably ludicrous, that even though he knew she was lying, Horuss couldn’t help but gape for a moment longer. The Heiress had gone off the deep end. She was crazy.

“Meowbeast got your tongue blue boy?” Meenah snickered, flicking her cigarette butt into the bushes and standing. “Don’t act so surprised. Them old coots got all kinds of secrets up their sleeves. Hell, the Empress still is waxing red for the Archivist.  And he’s hella warm on the spectrum. Ochre if I’m right.”

Horuss blinked. “I am positively stunned. Though, I had thought the Seafarer was involved with the Archivist.”

“Ehh, apparently they’ve cycled through red and black and pale. You know grown men, emotionally uncompromising and hormonal. But hell, I’m surprised you didn’t know ole Darkleer got it on with lowbloods.”

“Warmbloods,” Horuss corrected her. He was still stunned. The sheer idea that his ancestor, an ingenious political leader of Alternia, had been involved emotionally with those on the warm end of the spectrum, silenced Horuss. His poor behavior at the ball seemed distant. “I am still flabbergasted at what you’re insinuating.”

“What?” Meenah asked, cocking an eyebrow. “You’re surprised that the Duke got it on with those sexy warmbloods? Or is it that the slurry begot you may have been coaxed out of your ancestor by a peasant?”

Horuss gasped. Holding his hand over his chest, he stepped back. “This talk is horribly inappropriate. I would ask you to hold your tongue, but it is not my place to do so.”

“You’re damned right it ain’t your place to scold me. The only troll that gets away with that shit is dear old Miss frills and gills. And even then, the wench knows she ain’t got shit on me.” Meenah laughed.

Horuss really could say or do much of anything. Not that he had to. Before he knew it, Meenah stuck her lighter back inside her top and pranced off back to the throngs of people inside. Horuss gaped. The Heiress must have been lying. She must have. She was simply trying to get a rise out of the guest of honor, right? Right.

Horuss walked off into the gardens. He needed to clear his head. The man that had the audacity to lecture him on manners, etiquette and court protocols had been involved with warmbloods? In the red quadrant? Horuss frowned.

It was impossible. You cull warmbloods. You care for them. You don’t date them.

For one, considering that Horuss was only ten sweeps old, the relationship must have occurred  around that period in time. The Cyberist was, back then at least, in East Beforus researching the relatively new field of cybernetics. There was no way he would engage in a red relationship with a foreign peasant. Or any peasant. Ever.

Horuss shook his head and made a beeline for the hedge maze out on the lawn. He needed time for himself.

The labyrinth was lit, and Horuss had already learned the correct path during his first few days at the palace, but he stepped into the intricate puzzle and sighed. Time to think. Time to be alone. Time to get away.

There were a few twists and turns, and even a drunk pair of seadwellers, but other than that, Horuss had no real obstacles. At least, he had none other than the debate raging inside his head. His ancestor, a man he admired and feared for every good reason had possibly been…

“No…” Horuss whispered. “Impossible.”

Meenah must have been lying. Why? He couldn’t conjure a guess. Someone of her status on the hemospectrum had honesty as part of their genes, right? Right. Horuss shook his head and exited the back end of the maze.

The gardens here at the very edge of the palace lawns were clean and rather sparse. Where the Duke had ordered peonies from the farthest reaches of the Empire for his own personal gardens, this space was simply a formality. Some hedges and native grasses graced the landscape. That was it.

Horuss plopped down on a stone bench and heaved a sigh. Maybe here no one would bother him. Maybe here he could be alone.

“Psst.”

Maybe not.


	8. Chapter 8

“Psst.”

Maybe if Horuss ignored the sound it’d go away.

“Psst.”

Maybe if he believed it was his imagination it’d go away.

“Psst.”

Maybe if he convinced himself it was the winds it’d go away.

“Psst.”

Maybe not.

“Psst.”

Horuss turned quickly, his hands having gripped the stone bench and cracking it. “ _What_?”

A bright-eyed troll pushed his face past the bushes and smiled at Horuss. “Hey buddy, it’s me. You surprised I came back?”

“Well actually, yes. Especially considering you roused the whole battalion of guards just a little over an hour ago.” Horuss frowned and looked his strange little guest over. “Why did you come back lowblood? Are you going to turn yourself in for your misdeeds earlier?”

“Hardly,” Rufioh scoffed. “I just sorta… wanted to see your fine self again. And thank you. Cause that box of sweets? That one you got me? That was real kind of you and I really can’t thank you enough for them. Like… it mentally confounds me that you’d be all nice and stuff to a lowlife like me.”

“Nonsense,” Horuss said, taking his turn to scoff. “You are merely a misfortunate lowblood. That does not make you a lowlife. And it is my job as a highblood to take care of those who cannot take care of themselves.”

Rufioh pouted and climbed out of the bush a little more. “Yo man, I can take care of myself. I have been since I was four and a half. It’s just hard to come by food in the woods. You know what I mean?”

“No. Not at all.”

“Eh, I guess I suppose you wouldn’t, being all high class and fancy and stuff.” Rufioh shrugged and swung a leg over the cracked bench to straddle it. He looked at Horuss and smiled. “But look at it this way: I had to survive one way or another in the woods and on the run, right?”

“Right.”

“So be cool and don’t g thinking I can’t go and take care of myself.”

“Would you like to return the chocolates then my friend?” Horuss asked.

Rufioh shook his head and chuckled. “Nah, man; those are now the nicest thing I own. I’m keeping them and I’m gonna go and guard them with my life. Alright friend?” Rufioh smiled and reached out to grasp Horuss’ shoulder.

A blueblood troll with no experience in touching or handling another troll did _not_ know how to handle such a situation. Not at all. Horuss froze. He looked at Rufioh and then shrugged a little. The warm hand on his person didn’t budge.

“Alright?” Rufioh asked again.

“Very well,” Horuss said, a frown crossing his face. It wasn’t a sad expression, no, not in the slightest. But it was pained. He didn’t know what to say. Sitting there for several moments he sighed and reached up to brush Rufiohs hand off his shoulder.

“Is something wrong dude? You seem really out of sorts,” Rufioh said, scooting back along the bench and inch and cocking his head to the side. A sad noble? Was that even possible?

“I am perfectly fine.”

“You don’t seem it.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Horuss said, standing and walking to the entrance of the maze. “You made my night more complicated and unfortunate than I had anticipated. I am over it however. So do not fret,” Horuss said, waving his hand in dismissal.

Rufioh fluttered up and over to the blueblood’s side. A frown crossed his face. “What’s that supposed to mean? I didn’t do anything to ruin your night. Not on purpose anyway…”

Horuss spun on his heel and faced Rufioh, face flushed navy, lip trembling in borderline rage. He raised an accusatory finger to his guest’s face and stood there for a moment before realizing his mistake. No emotion. None of this frivolous out-bursting was acceptable. Not for a troll like him. Not a highblood. Lowering his pointing finger, he turned again and paced off back into the maze.

It would be a shame to lose one’s temper for trivial reasons. I would be a shame especially if it concerned a lowblood.

Rufioh followed Horuss, a morbid curiosity keeping him from being sensible and simply returning home. “Dude, what’s up with you? Did I do something uncool?”

“Yes,” Horuss said, leading the Rufioh deeper into the maze. “You committed felony trespassing, burglary, attempted assault…”

“Yo man I never assaulted no one!” Rufioh said, catching Horuss’ shoulder and forcing the noble to face him.

“Well for one, you tackled me in my room. And as of right now, you are manhandling me and I do believe that would count as assault in a court of law.” Horuss brushed Rufioh’s hand aside. The lowblood immediately set to bruising.

“Ow…” Rufioh cussed.

Horuss perked up and frowned. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to injure you. Do you require medical attention?”

Rufioh looked up at Horuss, fighting back tears of pain. He gulped. “No man… I’m fine. I swear.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah man… it’s fine. I swear.” Rufioh flinched, waving his hand as if shooing the problem away like a fly. Horuss noticed the expression and stepped closer.

“Lowblood…”

“My name is Rufioh,” he rebutted. “Please be decent enough to use my name, doll.”

“Rufioh…” Horuss said, slower and with a slight pause. “Please do tell me if you’re hurt. I do not intend to hurt those who cannot handle pain.”

“Dude… stop talking to me like a wriggler,” Rufioh snapped, pulling his hand back. “I told you, I’m fine.”

“Forgive me for not believing you, but I sense I’ve caused you undue pain. That was not my intention. Please, let me make amends,” Horuss said, reaching out extremely carefully and taking Rufioh’s good hand.

“I told you I’m…” Rufioh stopped. The grip on his hand was cool to the touch and incredibly strong. “Dude… that’s some grip you’ve got…”

Horuss frowned ever so slightly. “I apologize. It is a trademark trait of my caste and lineage. I did not mean to hurt you.”

“So you keep saying,” Rufioh muttered, shrugging and trying to shake Horuss off. “Mind letting go?”

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry,” Horuss said, letting the lowblood free and shaking his head. “Terribly sorry… Are you alright?”

“I told you I’m fine,” Rufioh said, a flicker of a smile crossing his lips. Was this a concerned and fretting highblood? Wow, that was actually kind of unexpected. Not _totally_ unexpected considering that that was how most highbloods were with their pet projects, but still, Rufioh thought it was kind of nice. He flicked his bruised hand in dismissal and inhaled sharply. “Okay… that may have hurt…”

“Oh dear… I’m so sorry Rufioh…” Horus said, frowning. “I knew I should have kept my gloves on. I’m such a fool… such a disgrace. Such a fool…” Horuss frowned and smacked himself upside the head a few times.

“Dude… Horuss, chill. I’ll be fine.”

“No. This is unacceptable. I will rectify this. Please follow me,” Horuss said, turning and making his way through the maze.

Rufioh blinked, slumped forward a bit and fluttered after Horuss. “Yo man, I doubt there’s anything in these hedges that can help a bruise…”

“Not here in the maze you silly lowblood, back at the manor.”

“My name is Rufioh…” Rufioh grumbled, flying up to Horuss’ side as he paced through the maze.

“Follow me. We’ll get through this maze in no time. I know it like the back of my hand,” Horuss said, a small smile on his face. That calmed Rufioh down a little. This troll was capable of more than sheer discontent and that was a darned good thing. Rufioh smiled back. Perking up, Rufioh got an idea.

“Yo Horuss… I have a better idea than us playing in this maze.”

“Oh? And what would that happen to be?” Horuss asked, still making his way through the maze.

Rufioh chuckled and swooped behind Horuss, hooking his arms underneath Horuss’ and pulling him up into the air. “This is my idea my good sir.”

“What are we doing?!” Horuss yelped.

“Flying, duh.”

“Put me down this instant lowvblood!” Horuss said, squirming as Rufioh lifted him up over the hedges and toward the manor. He was laughing as Horuss shook and clung to him.

“Chill dollface. It’s all good. Just think of it as a shortcut,” Rufioh said, pulling Horuss’ closer to him.

Horuss whined. Struggling a little, h settled some as Rufioh carried him over the maze, the lawns and the gardens, all the way back to the door to Horuss’ room.

“Heh…”

“What’s so funny?” Horuss asked.

“I just ran out of this place a criminal not even two hours ago.” Rufioh landed on the patio and set Horuss down on his feet. “You okay?” he asked.

“I am fine. A little shaken, but I am in acceptable condition.” Horuss said, smoothing out his formal dinner jacket. He huffed. “I am not one for heights low… Rufioh.”

Rufioh shrugged and smiled a little. Just a little. A highblood was being… nice? Maybe. Either way, Rufioh didn’t feel as if he was threatened with culling here. No… Horuss wouldn’t do that. Everything would be fine.

Horuss turned and opened the patio doors, beckoning Rufioh to follow. They were silent. It was dark in the room again. Rufioh followed. “I can’t believe I’ve been invited in here…” Rufioh whispered.

“It’s quite alright. After all I did injure you.” Horrus said, pacing across the room and turning on the lights. “Please take a seat,” Horrus said pointing to a plush armchair, “I will get some bandages.”

Rufioh sat, gently, gingerly, in the chair.  Looking around the room, he bit his lip. What would happen if the Duke found them? What would happen if he was culled for real? What would happen to his treehive and his manga? What about those chocolates?

And Damara and the Lost Boys too?

Rufioh gulped as the stinging in his hand came back to the forefront of his conscience. And just as he thought it couldn’t get worse, Horuss returned with a first aid kit in hand and a pair of gloves on.

“Please let me see your hand, Rufioh,” Horuss asked, setting the white box on the end table and turning the lamp on. Rufioh obliged and offered his bruised hand to the nobleman with the impassive face.

“I hope you don’t hurt me again,” Rufioh mumbled, looking to the side, trying to avoid Horuss’ gaze.

“Oh?” Horuss said, barely registering what Rufioh was mumbling about. “Do not worry. These gloves I have on, they manage to suppress my inherent strength. You shall be fine.”


	9. Chapter 9

Rufioh was surprised, to say the least, as to how gentle Horuss was now. Who would have thought that gloves of all things would help? Not Rufioh, that’s for sure. After all, it was only a few minutes earlier that the troll in the gloves had bruised him. 

Horuss tended to the deep brown swollen skin. Between a sweet smelling salve, and a snug bandage, Horuss kept his focus on Rufioh. He sighed a little tiny wisp of a sigh and set Rufioh’s hand down on the arm of the chair.

“Is that better Rufioh?” Horuss asked, looking up at his patient.

“Hell yeah,” Rufioh said, smiling. “That goop you smeared all over it really feels nice.”

Horuss nodded, standing up. “That’s to be expected. It’s a topical treatment. The pain should fade more until the bruising has healed.”

“Bangarang,” Rufioh said, jumping up with a smile. His wings fluttered a bit. It took everything for Horuss not to stare.

“Pardon?” Horuss asked. His gaze snapped from the wings to a beaming smile plastered on Rufioh’s face. “Bang a what?”

“It’s nothing, doll,” Rufioh said, shaking his head. “It’s just something sorta like a catchphrase of mine.”

“Oh,” Horuss said, letting his lips linger around the sound for a moment. He turned to pack up the first aid kit. “That is quite quaint.”

Rufioh shrugged and proceeded to look around Horuss’ room. He poked around, and fluttered to the mirror over the fireplace. Reaching up, he mussed his hair a bit and flew to sit on the mantle. Horuss was too busy with the little white box to notice the mutant lowblood prodding the gilded frame of the mirror.

“You’ve got a real swanky place here Horuss,” Rufioh said. Chuckling a bit, he swung his legs and let his wings drape over his arms. “Maybe I should visit a bit more. This place is a hell of a lot better insulated than my treehive.”

“Hmm?” Horuss looked up and gaped as he watched his guest balance on the fireplace mantle. “Rufioh, I know you come from a rugged and somewhat uncouth background, but please refrain from sitting on the mantle. Please. Come here, I have chairs. You could even use my recuperacoon, please just get off the mantle.”

Rufioh perked up at the barrage of words. Sighing, he slipped off his perch and fluttered over to Horuss. “You’re kinda paranoid about things being out of place, huh?” Rufioh asked.

“I am not. I simply understand where a troll should and should not sit. A mantle is not a seat,” Horuss said, huffing a little and gesturing to the chair one more.

Rufioh smiled a little and draped his body over the chair sideways. “Fine. I’ll use a chair. But the next time I come over, I’m taking you up on the offer to use your coon. I haven’t slept in sopor in sweeps.”

Horuss froze. He could ignore a threat, no an offer, of another visit. But a troll with no sopor? That was unheard of. He shook his head and clicked his tongue in disdain. “Sweeps without sopor? Lowblood, I must insist you stop this foolishness at once. Such behavior can only lead to prolonged damage to one’s pan. I will not stand for such destructive behavior.”

“Chill out dude, it’s no biggie.”

“I must disagree. It is very much a biggie.”

“Chill out…”

“No,” Horuss said, stomping his foot in a very domineering manner. “It is bad enough you go without food on a regular basis, so much so that you must thieve from the manor’s kitchen. But going without sopor? I will not allow it. I must insist you stay the night.”

Rufioh stared at Horuss. This turn of events was… unbelievable. Almost as if it had jumped out of a shonen-ai manga. Gulping, Rufioh sat up a little. “Are you… serious? Doll, _dude_ … I’m not much for sharing coons with guys I just met. And then there’s Damara to think about and the fact that if I get caught I’ll be culled. And you’ve got a party to get back to. I don’t know… it’s not really something I’m going to be comfortable with.”

“Nonsense,” Horuss said, in a very final and very commanding tone. “I will return to the festivities at the other end of the manor, finish my duties and return. If you are not in that coon by the time I return, I will personally see to it that you are culled for sure.”

Rufioh gawked and stood up. “Are you for fucking rea right now?” Rufioh asked. “Are you that hell bent on sleeping with me?”

“What?!” Horuss stepped back, very much offended. “How dare you insinuate such things? I am simply looking out for your wellbeing. Especially since you seem very incapable yourself, Mr. Rufioh.”

Rufioh frowned. “I have taken care of myself very damned well without a snooty highblood looking down over me. And for quite a damn long time too.” He continued to pout, rubbing his arm and biting his lip.

“Still,” Horuss said, trying his hardest to keep an impassive demeanor. “Rufioh… I must insist. Especially considering the injuries you’ve sustained and the amount of exercise it must have taken to fly here, back to your treehive and back again…” Horuss sighed and frowned a little. It was starting to hut keeping all his worry for this stranger locked up. “Please stay the night. If not just to steady my nerves. I would hate for…”

Rufioh blinked. Was this highblood coming on to him? Or was there something else at play? Now Horuss was trailing off and it worried him. “What would you hate?” Rufioh asked, reaching out and petting Horuss’ shoulder lightly.

“I would hate for you to have a bad night’s sleep. Especially since I’ve cause you physical injury and you were chased by guards. I…” Horuss gulped, trying to quell the surge of emotions frothing about inside of him. No. Not around a lowblood. He must remain a role-model of grace. Horuss swallowed.

“Are you alright?” Rufioh asked, still petting Horuss’ upper arm.

Horuss mentally whined at the gentle touch. No one had ever been that close to him and been kind at the same time. He offered a faint nod in response to Rufioh’s question. “I am alright, Rufioh.”

Rufioh nodded. “If it would really mean that much to you, I’ll spend the night.”

Horuss perked up. Nodding, he reached out to take Rufioh’s un-injured hand. “Thank you Rufioh. Please allow me to be a gracious host.”

“That’s what I’m doing dollface,” Rufioh said. He smiled and squeezed Horuss’ hand. “No pailing though.”

Horuss gaped and turned an unexpected shade of deep navy. “I…”

Rufioh laughed. “It’s just a joke dude,” he stood up and pecked Horuss on the cheek for the second time that night. “Don’t you have a big old shin ding to go finish up?” Rufioh asked.

Nodding, his mouth still agape from the joke and the kiss, Horuss stepped back. Shaking his head a little to dispel the shock, he turned to walk over to the door. “I’ll be back within an hour. No one shall bother you. Please feel free to use the shower and the spare robe I have hanging in the bathroom. I…”

Rufioh noticed the hesitation in Horuss’ voice as he trailed off. “Is something the matter?”

“No,” Horuss said. “I am simply still very sorry for hurting you.”

“It’s alright dude. You’ve more than made up for it.”

Horuss nodded, still unsure of what to say. Without another word or lingering moment, he turned and returned to his party.


	10. Chapter 10

How Rufioh Nitram managed to wake up, bare naked, in a highblood manor, cradled in the arms of a blueblood, was a mystery. A very strange and hazy mys—

_Blueblood!_

Rufioh panicked. This was not something he had thought possible, never mind smart. No. Turning his head slowly, he noticed the sleeping noble troll and… and…

 _“Blueblood!”_ he whispered, shaking a little tiny bit in the sopor. “Oh no oh no oh no oh no…”

He was quivering, wings twitching a little bit. Even now, rapped in an ornate recuperacoon, sun only starting to go down behind those ornate silken drapes, Rufioh couldn’t find any sense of calm. Nope. Not a single drop of calm. Even though he was still pressed against this rather handsome…

_“Blueblood!”_

Rufioh scrambled out of the coon, trying his best trying not to wake his host. That would just be rude. And if it weren’t for the fact he was trying his damnedest not to go undetected, he might have enjoyed the fact that for the first time, in a long time, he had spent a day not plagued my horrible dreams. All thanks to this recuperacoon, sopor and this…

“ _Blueblood!”_ Rufioh whispered again, not trying to wake Horuss, but instead just trying to make it all sound a little more real. Because let’s be real here: a runaway kid with a bad dye job and the smell of squirrels on him really had no place in a palace, never mind in the arms of a noble troll.

Stumbling out of the recuperacoon at long last, Rufioh’s amber eyes darted about searching for his clothes. The surreal aspect of this… whatever it was, was only made worse by the fact he was naked. And dripping wet in sopor. And the fact that there was a distinct soreness down in his…

“No _way…_ ”

Rufioh cussed to himself and bolted for the bathroom door, slipping in and hiding in there. The door locked. The lights went on. A scared little warmblood held his self and tried his best to fight through his sleepiness to remember last night. And… and… and…

A knock at the door caused Rufioh to yelp.

“Rufioh? Are you alright in there?” Horuss called out.

“I… I’m fine… totally fine. Way fine. Really, really fine…” Rufioh croaked out.

On the other side of the door was another thing entirely. A well-muscled, well-bred, well-fed blueblood was naked and dripping green all over the floors. A pout had crossed his face at his guest’s response. That seemed almost forced. Horuss knocked softly at the door again, doing his best not to dent the finely carved wood.

“Are you sure Rufioh?” Horuss asked. “You seem a little off. Are you sure you don’t need anything?”

Rufioh froze. Oh good God what had he gotten himself into. Slinking away from the door, he tried to play cool. He headed for the shower and fumbled with the knobs before answering Horuss.

“Um… could you do me a solid and, you know, get me my clothes?” Rufioh asked.

Horuss frowned. “I can’t do that Rufioh. Don’t you remember? After you initiated last night’s activities, I accidentally ripped your clothes.”

Rufioh’s eyes went wide. _He_ started… whatever it was they had done?

“But no matter!” Horuss said, interrupting Rufioh’s shameful panic. “I’ll send a request in for a change of clothes for you immediately.”

“Don’t!” Rufioh shouted, running over to the door and yanking it open. “I don’t need to get caught. That’d be…”

Everything came to a standstill. Everything came back to Rufioh at the sight of this naked troll with a… Rufioh gulped.

“Is something the matter Rufioh?”

“We did a lot of stuff last night…” Rufioh said. His eyes were stuck focused on Horuss’ feet. “I… I… wow.”

“Wow?” Horuss cocked his head and reached forward to tilt Rufioh’s chin up so he could look him in the eye. “My friend, are you sure you’re alright? You seem out of sorts, even for a lowblood. Would you like me to bring you breakfast and a change of clothes? I shall do my best as a host to accommodate you.”

Rufioh shook his head. “No… no it’s okay. I swear… it’s okay.”

“You don’t seem okay.”

“Hah… yeah. I didn’t think I’d ever get into it so quickly with another dude,” Rufioh said, scratching the back of his head. “I’m not even sure I thought it possible to… you know… with a highblood.”

“Although relations with lowbloods are looked down upon, I do not think you and I having a tryst with you constitutes such a reaction. You should be happy you’ve done so well for yourself considering your social standing.” Horuss said. A small and genuine smile crossed his lips. He really seemed to think he had done Rufioh a favor by… you know.

“It’s not _that…_ ” Rufioh said, still scratching the back of his head, trying to think. “I…”

“Yes?”

“I have a matesprit.”

Horuss froze. “How _scandalous_ ,” he said, a flicker in his eyes. His smile wavered for a moment and a deep navy tint lit up at his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “I… don’t know if it would be wise to ask to do that again then.”

Rufioh went wide-eyed. “Again?”

“Yes again. I did not think I would enjoy myself as much as I did,” Horuss said, blush deepening. “I mean… _a lowblood?_ It’s unfathomable. But the risk and danger aspects are so… enticing.”

Rufioh frowned a bit at that. Was this coldblooded jerk getting off to the fact he was breaking ‘the rules?’ His wings twitched at the thought. It was both gross and… oddly cute. Rufioh shrugged it off. “So about clothes…”


	11. Chapter 11

Horuss waved to Rufioh as he flew off away from the estate, bronze wings shining in the light. Biting his lip a little, Horuss smiled. This was more than he could bear. Bouncing a little on his heels, he turned and tidied up his room, humming some. This… all of this ‘scandal’ was more than he could bear.

“More than I can bear…” Horuss murmured in a sing-song voice.

He took Rufioh’s shredded clothes and tossed them into the fireplace. What a sight it was destroying evidence. Horuss rubbed his arm, still smiling a little. How scandalous. Turning, he went to the bathroom to start his day.

***

Rufioh pulled at his collar as he touched down on the landing outside his treehive. There was a blush on his cheek, a frazzled look on his brow, and a slight glimmer in his eye. He tried to breathe. Tried to. The finery Horuss had lent him was a little starchy and for all the glimmer, the fabric did not breathe.

He needed to breathe.

Tugging at the collar, he unbuttoned the first two buttons and sighed. Pushing through the rickety door, Rufioh smiled and sighed.

“Hive sweet hive…” he murmured in a sing-song voice.

He stopped, looking in his hammock. Damara glared at him,

***

Horuss rushed to his lessons, trying to contain his smile and failing spectacularly. Entering his ancestor’s study, he composed himself and sat down across from The Cyberist’s desk. Folding his hands in his lap, he adjusted his googles and waited.

Several silent minutes later, he entered, big and broad and regal, sitting down and shuffling his paperwork around. Looking up at Horuss, he glared at him from behind his glasses.

“Horuss, were you aware you disappeared from last night’s festivities, ones that were held in your honor, for an unacceptable amount of time.” Darkleer’s words come out low and almost masked in a growl.

“I apologize Sir…”

“I did not give you permission to speak,” Darkleer said, slamming his hand against the desk. Had it not been for his gloves, the ornate wood would have become woodchips. “Your behavior yesterday has been unacceptable in every way, shape and form. Clearly discipline is not enough for you.”

Horuss gulped. He knew this didn’t bode well. He knew partaking in something so scandalous as fraternizing with a criminal lowblood would land him in the proverbial hot water. He looked down and nodded slowly, waiting for the punishment, whatever it may have been.

***

Rufioh wrung his hands. The look on his face, between the blush and the ever so slightly parted lips, almost gave away his guilt. Almost.

Damara had taken up smoking only a perigee or two ago, and Rufioh knew, deep in his pusher, that it was to help her better handle the added stress that came from his nonchalant attitude when it came to the responsibilities concerning the Lost Weeaboos. Like caring for them and protecting them and feeding them. Raising them. Like a lusus would do.

Damara flicked the ashes of her cigarette into a dirty mug on Rufioh’s nightstand. “ ~~Where’d you get that set of finery?~~ ” she asked, the words coming out of her mouth the same way certain cobras spat their venom.

“I…” Rufioh bit his lip. “It’s not what you think Dam…”

“ ~~As of right now, I don’t know what to think.~~ ” Damara puffed on her cigarette. “ ~~So cut the drawn out words and tell me where you got those clothes.~~ ”

“I stole them.”

Rufioh spat it out before he had time to think, but from the sudden look of surprise on Damara’s face, it had done some good. Her lips parted. The corners of her burgundy stained lips curved upwards. The cigarette in her hand was flicked out of the window and she got up.

“ ~~Finally.~~ ”

***

Horuss did his best, no, his _damned_ best, to not seem too excited with his punishment.

“You will attend etiquette classes on top of your predetermined lessons,” Darkleer said with an exasperated sigh. “Apparently you are just too dense to understand the importance of proper behavior. I will not see my descendant act in such an unbecoming behavior ever again. Do you understand me Horuss Zahhak?”

“Yes Sir.” Horuss said, nodding. He tried, and _almost_ failed to contain his excitement.

Etiquette classes. That only meant one thing, Horuss was going to be able to better himself even more so than he had expected. And to top _that_ off, he was going to see the Heiress on a daily basis. Why she needed lessons on manners and proper behavior among the civilized classes was beyond Horuss. But he didn’t care. He really didn’t care.

He was being given an opportunity and he would never take that for granted. At least now he k new there were unfortunate lost souls out there who could never have such an opportunity.

“Sir, I must thank you for investing such an effort into me and my studies. Thank you,” Horuss said, smiling very, very faintly. “I am honored and humbled that you are my ancestor. Thank you Sir.”

“Do not go on with this emotional tripe. It is unbecoming,” Darkleer said, standing up. “But thank you for the kind words my boy.”

***

He came to the conclusion he should lie to Damara more often the moment he came for the second time. Rufioh panted a little and held her lithe pewter body close to his. Warm warmblood skin pressed together had a certain charm to it and it held melt away the guilt that had fermented in Rufioh’s gut on his flight home.

“ ~~You make me so happy,~~ ” Damara whispered in his ear before kissing his jaw.

“That’s all I want Dam.” Rufioh said. He panted, still a little breathless and dazed. She had jumped him, a pearly smile outlined in kissable lips. She had said she was proud of him.

Rufioh didn’t know is that was heartwarming or heartbreaking in the making. So he just rolled with it as she began peeling him out of his ‘stolen’ clothes. Somewhere, about fifteen minutes later while they were swinging in the hammock, Rufioh decided not to dwell on his indiscretion.

Not at all.

He had a burgundy gal in his arms and life was good.

***

Horuss took a seat in the sun room turned makeshift classroom and folded his hands on the desk. He had arrived ten minutes early. He needed to make a good impression and to do so meant more than erasing the faint smile on his lips. Horuss had to impress.

So ten minutes early it was.

Granted, it took another thirty minutes for the tutor to arrive, Meenah at the end of a long braid in his hand.


	12. Chapter 12

“You can’t be up and telling me you aren’t up to somefin buoy. C’mon… dish. What’s got you all smiley all of a sudden?” Meenah asked, reclining on the tutor’s desk.

Horuss frown a slight bit and shook his head. “It is, as you would say, ‘nofin’ Your Highness.”

“I told you buoy, if you’re gonna be taking dumb etiquette classes together, you better cut the Highness shtick. Got it?” Meenah said, pointing a razor sharp finger at Horuss. He continued writing his essay.

Their tutor, an exasperated and tiresome troll, had given up on Meenah within a month of starting the classes. Had it not been for Horuss’ diligence and absolute need to impress his ancestor, the poor troll would have pulled all their hair out. As it was, the tutor was out on a smoke break, a bad habit they only picked up after dealing with Meenah on a daily basis.

“My apologies your… Meenah. It is habit and a result of these classes. Which if you may recall I am dedicated to passing with flying colors.” Horuss looked up from his papers and smiled just enough to try and get his sincerity across. Otherwise a smile would be quite out of place. A smile was always out of place.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get why you decided to try and one up your own freaking ancestor with the amount of classes you take.” Meenah scoffed and hopped down from the desk, striding over to Horuss’ table. She loomed over him, braids trailing over her shoulder like a sleek black boa.

Horuss gulped. “I’m not trying to one up anyone Meenah.”

“Bull.”

Horuss blushed at the mention of a bull. “I swear.”

“You’re up to somefin blue buoy. You smile when you think no one is looking. You tinker away with those weird robot bugs. You disappear every so often and come back a mess.” Meenah squinted at Horuss. “You’re up to somefin and I’m gonna find out one way or another.”

“Meenah, I can guarantee you, you’ll find nothing whatsoever. Please do not waste your time on such frivolities as investigating my personal life. That is so far beneath you.”

“What can I say buoy,” Meenah said with a shrug. “I’m bored.”

Horuss frowned and returned to his essay on the importance of stoicism.

***

Horuss and Meenah began their classes on etiquette when the trees were leafed in green and the Duke’s vast gardens were peppered in blossoms. And for every day of the warm season, Meenah kept her hounding and pestering and nosiness up to par.

Had it not been for sweeps of conditioning and anger management, she wouldn’t have lasted a week. Horuss had learned though. And that by itself gave Meenah a very good opportunity to find out what Horuss Zahhak was up to.

The day Meenah decided to follow Horuss out on one of his ‘botanical explorations’ was when the air was cool and the trees were bright copper.

It was fall.

And Horuss had no idea he was being followed.

Parading along down the beaten dirt path, Horuss retied his pony tail, making sure the blue embroidered ribbon was in place. He had to look his best. He just had to. Rufioh deserved nothing but the most exceptional troll a highblood could be.

Horuss stopped, bent down to tie his shoe and, for a moment, pick flowers.

Meenah watched him from a safe distance. “Botanical explorations my chute…” she grumbled to herself, hiding in some brush. Her braids, still sleek, still long, were pinned up and out of the way. There was no good in tripping over your own hair while in the woods.

She spat.

Whether or not she liked being royal, Meenah did hate one thing. Nature. In all its dirtiness and chaos, nature needed to _not_ be a thing she had to deal with. Grumbling still, she picked a falling leaf out of her blouse and cussed. Horuss had vanished from sight.

Rushing out, it took her another five minutes to find him. “This dammed spy shtick is harder than I thought…”

Horuss kept along the path for another full hour. An hour in nature. _Nature._ Princesses, reluctant or not, were never meant to be in nature that long. Meenah’s feet were killing her. She mumbled and grumbled, wondering how the hell Horuss could keep it up. She was almost regretting this entire expedition when it came into sight.

The trees thinned and among a clearing of well-worn dirt paths and weedy wildflowers, a collection of ruined buildings loomed in the trees. Meenah whistled. The glass and wood and shingles were all worn and some of it stained with mosses and dirt. But she knew enough about highblood culture to notice a hunting lodge when she saw one. Granted, this one, or these ones actually, were dilapidated and almost in ruin, but the architecture was fancy enough.

Meenah blinked. “What the hell are you up to blue buoy?” she muttered to herself, pursing her lips. It was then that a gaggle of young warmbloods came into view, distracting Meenah with their raucous nonsense. She cussed when she noticed Horuss jump down a path behind the main treehive.

Circling the little village in ruin, Meenah tried to stay out of sight as she pursued Horuss.

She pondered the situation. Horuss was sneaking off to this secret village of presumed runaways yet he didn’t want to be seen by them. Meenah bit her bottom lip in deep thought. What was he playing at? She sighed as the path began running downhill.

Through the trees she could see water and her eyes lit up. “Fuck yeah…” She covered her mouth when she realized how loud she had been. “Smooth move Peixes…” Meenah said, flicking herself in the forehead. So much for being a good spy.

Horuss, though startled at the sound, shrugged and kept going. He was almost where he needed to be.

With Rufioh.

Meenah jumped behind the nearest rock when she saw the handsome mutant with the glimmering bronze wings. A blush came to her face. It only deepened when she watched Horuss take the boy’s hands and kiss him on the nose.

“Jackpot…”

***

For whatever crackpot reason she had in mind, Meenah decided to follow Horuss and his secret fairy lover for the next few hours. Though tempted to dive into the glacier fed lake, she refrained and hid in the trees, jumping from behind boulder to boulder as Horuss and his brewing scandal circled the lake.

That afternoon Meenah learn many things. The most important being that Horuss was dating a runaway rustblood named Rufioh Nitram. The second most important thing she learned was that Rufioh, beautiful and charming Rufioh, was also keeping this entire affair a secret as well.

From his girlfriend.

Meenah rubbed her hands together in delight. Not only did she now have some very fun blueblooded strings to pull, but she had a whole gaggle of future servants waiting in the forest.

She froze. Meenah had no idea how it had happened but Horuss snapped his head around and stared in her general direction. Did her excitement give her away? She cussed to herself. How was it, after staying such a good spy for so long, hours in fact, that it was all for naught because of a smile?

Rufioh asked Horuss something in a hushed tone, but was brushed off. Horuss’ ears twitched. Even as far away as she was, Meenah could hear a low growl come from Horuss.

She covered her mouth, holding her breath, even going so far as to close her gills. Panic? That was exactly what she needed to do right now. Dropping down to her knees behind the nearest rock, she ignored the dirt for the time being. Peeking out from her hiding spot, she glanced over to where the two boys were standing.

A squirrel ran out and across the path.

Rufioh laughed.

At that point Meenah cursed. Fuck that guy. Fuck that mutant fairy with his nice hair and his laugh like baritone wind chimes. _Fuck that guy._ Meenah cursed to herself, embarrassed that she could be so easily put in the dirt by a squirrel, a sweaty blueblood, and a rustblood’s laugh.

Horuss sighed and turned back to Rufioh, kissing him lightly. “Sorry I’m on edged. The Heiress has been so nosy lately…”

“It’s alright doll, we’re fine out here. Heck… Damara won’t even come out to this side of the lake. I’ve told you that… what? A hundred times?” Rufioh said, grinning a bit.

“You’ve told me approximately thirty six times that your matesprit is not fond of this part of the forest, yes.”

“You’re such a know-it-all,” Rusfioh said, laughing and pressing another kiss to Horuss’ lips.

“Thank you dearest.”

Meenah pretended to gag. The overdone and saccharine way these two were making googly eyes at one another was making her skin crawl. It was okay for a grand total of ten minutes, but now? Now that she had finally found out what Horuss was up to?

Well…

It was kind of sweet. Perhaps a little over the top with how the two boys laced their fingers together and walked in step, but it was still kind of sweet. Meenah huffed a little and decided to leave these two lovebirds. After all, an Heiress could only take so much nature. But when you added a scandalous and equally sappy secret romance on top of that, it was too much.

Meenah made her way back, back the way she came.


	13. Chapter 13

As much as she hated nature, Meenah loved the nature of a good scandal. Mr. Perfect was anything but and now, now that this was all stewing in her brain, she was smiling, skipping almost, as she headed back through the woods to the Cyberist Darkleer’s estate.

But, as with any good mood for a rebellious Princess, it was doomed to die sooner than she had hoped.

The moment Meenah entered the little village of ruined hunting lodges and treehives her path was blocked. And this wasn’t a fallen branch or washed out road. No. This roadblock was the burgundy-blooded kind.

“ ~~Who are you and what are you doing here?~~ ” Damara asked, pointing a slightly rusty saber at Meenah’s chest.

“Come again? I don’t speak soy sauce samurai.” Meenah cracked a smirk and swatted the blade away.

Damara scowled and stepped back, readjusting her blade and glancing round to see if any officials or police had followed this stranger… this _fish_ to their sanctuary. “I say, who you?” Damara spat in broken Beforan.

“Oh calm down gill. I understood you plenty fine. No need to make a bigger embarrassment out of yourshellf than need be.” Meenah grinned, sharp shark-like teeth gleaming in the forest light.

“ ~~Bitch…~~ ”

“Thank you.”

“ ~~Why are you here? What the hell do you want? I have half a mind to skewer you where you stand before I let you take these kids to be culled~~.” Damara said. Shuffling her feet, she moved to the side, eyes still trained on Meenah.

“Don’t you recognize me? Or have you been raised here fin the wilds for so long as to naut know who you’re dealing with?” Meenah asked, crossing her arms.

Damara huffed. “ ~~You got fins. And you sure as hell didn’t run away from the navy. So right now, all I know is that you’re trouble.~~ ” Damara flicked her saber up a bit, scowling more, face flushed a little maroon.

Meenah smirked. “You’re nervous.”

“ ~~I am not, fishbitch~~.”

“Watch your language.”

Damara scoffed. “ ~~You’re pretty damned good at East Beforan if you caught that~~.” Damara flicked her rusty saber up again and nodded at Meenah. “ ~~Come on _fin-cess,_ spit it out. What the hell are you up to?”~~

Meenah smiled and cocked her head the side, braid slipping off her shoulder. “Oh you know… just stalking a social pariah through the wilderness. The usual weekend fare for a royal like me.”

“ ~~Ha ha ha…~~ ” Damara spat, talking a step forward. “ ~~Talk or I’ll have to stain my only blade with the ugliest color on the hemospectrum.~~ ”

“You remind me of someone…” Meenah said offhandedly, swatting away the blade, tempted to grab it and snap it over her knee. “I can’t place it… Let’s see. Snarky… a little creepy…. East Beforan… over confident in her abilities…”

“ ~~What are you playing at?~~ ” Damara asked.

Meenah grinned and took a step forward, closing the gap between her and Damara. “I know you…”

“Bullshit.”

Meenah smiled wider. “Apparently not… It’s not bullshit especially if I coaxed out some good old fashioned Beforan swearing from a demure little East Beforan gill.”

“ ~~Watch it fishbitch…~~ ”

“Damara Megido. Descendant of the Diplomat, East Beforan political envoy to the Empress. There were rumors you ran away from your ancestor and the life of courtly duties.” Meenah laughed, the harsh bubbly sound echoing through the clearing. “Gill… you’re a troll after my own pusher.”

Damara scowled, eyes going dark and focused, saber quivering in her hand as she shook. “Get. Out.”


	14. Chapter 14

Denial wasn’t just a river in troll Egypt. Not for Damara Megido. Rufioh was a flake, yes, but he wasn’t a cheater. He was irresponsible, but not a cheater. He had his head in the clouds, but he wasn’t a cheater. No. That was impossible. Rufioh was a good troll. Rufioh was… hers. Rufioh was in charge. Rufioh…

Damara shook a little.

It had been a few weeks since Meenah’s first visit. Now the leaves were almost gone from the tree. Now, with cool days and colder nights helping clear her mind of haze, with the leaves crunching under her feet, Damara stalked through the woods.

She’d prove that recurring nightmare what was really going on. Absolutely nothing.

***

Meenah smiled into her coffee cup, watching as Horuss lied through his teeth. This was more entertainment than she could have ever hoped for. Granted, Horuss was doing and astounding job at convincing his ancestor, The Cyberist Darkleer, that his frequent trips to the woodlands was benign.

“Sir, I swear on own line’s honor that I am not up to any so called funny business,” Horuss said, voice level, calm and unyielding. The only sign that there was any case of nerves in that blue boy’s body was the line of sweat on his brow. Granted, he was a Zahhak and that really didn’t signify much of anything.

“I see…” Darkleer said. He sat behind his desk, eyes hidden behind a set of shaded glasses. He was an intimidating man, coarse and even more unyielding than Horuss’ lies. But with those glasses? With his poker face so absolute it was hard to distinguish him from the automations he built for the Empire.

Meenah, in her more sociable moments, would joke with Horuss about such things. The two of them, at least when Horuss was busy coming down from a Rufioh-induced high, would speculate who built that mountain of a troll. Meenah wondered if he had an off switch. Horuss contemplated the possibility that he needed to be wound like a clock once a day.

But jokes were not on the menu. Not now at least.

“If you are indeed doing freelance horticultural studies in the woodlands,” The Cyberist said, “I would like a report on the ecosystems by perigee’s end. Is that understood?” he asked.

Horuss gulped. The flat voice, almost metallic in its tone, hit his ears with no mercy. He nodded.

***

Rufioh waited down by the lakeshore, per the usual, a makeshift fishing pole in one hand. It was just something simple, a slightly cured pole of bamboo, done up with rusty spare parts, no handle or fancy paints in sight.

Horuss helped him build it.

They did silly little things like that. Rufioh would talk to him about manga, and when Horuss was all buttered up, they’d talk doujushins. In turn, Horuss tried his best to make Rufioh a little handier. Or at the very least know how to use a screw driver.

Rufioh whined about having to do actual work, but with Horuss it was different. The whining only masked his curiosities, and though Horuss could see through that, he played along. Rufioh liked manga about fictional battle robots, and Horuss did too. In turn? In turn Horuss built little butterflies of copper and cobalt glass. Rufioh couldn’t commune with them, but still.

Rufioh loved it.

It didn’t take effort. It didn’t mean responsibility. It didn’t mean being in charge.

Loving Horuss was easy. Waiting for him was less so, but with a fishing pole in hand, he did just that.

***

Horuss managed to lie his way out of a mess. Meenah laughed the moment The Cyberist left the room, beaming at Horuss.

“Well buoy, you’re startin’ to take my advice. Good for you!” Meenah relaxed into her plush armchair, sipping her coffee. “Lying can get you anything you need. Even if it’s a massive robot off your shoulders.”

“My ancestor isn’t a robot Meenah,” Horuss said, face still flat, impassive and his emotionlessness still unwavering. “And I wasn’t lying.”

“Sure, sure, sure…” Meenah said, rolling her eyes. “Whatever. I bet ya he’s coin operated.”

Horuss shook his head. “That’s impractical.” He turned to her, a slight smile at the corner of his mouth. “He’s clearly steam powered.”

***

Her hands clawed at the bark of those rough and gnarled trees. Hiding with no leaves to shield her from view, Damara opted to sit in the fork of the branchy maple down by the lakeside. It was a tree with two or three tire swings for jumping out into the waters and a bunch of sappy hearts carved into the bark.

Damara would know. He knee was scrapping against a scratchy heart with the initials R.F. and D.M emblazoned in the middle.

She remembered that day. It was a little over a sweep ago when the dragonflies were breeding and the lotus flowers were budding. It was a day Rufioh decided to take her flying. It was then he landed in that very tree with her. It was then he kissed what he called her cherry-tinted manga mouth.

She snorted and flicked his ear when he did that.

They were dorks. And it was fun.

Until all those other wrigglers started showing up. They heard of a winged troll living the cull-free life. They wanted a piece of it.

And within a half perigee Rufioh and Damara were responsible for a gaggle of kids. Runaways. Whether they ran away from culling or being responsible strapping trolls in the court, Rufioh and Damara didn’t care.

They were responsible for those kids.

***

Rufioh frowned. Horuss had never been this late for a date. Never.

Gripping the fishing pole a little tighter, he sat down on the large boulder by the lake side and sighed. What happened? More funny court things? Maybe he was found out and locked up in one of those fancy room, getting his ass handed to him by one of those fancy trolls.

Maybe he got hurt.

Rufioh tried to calm himself, a rapidly beating heart making his chest twist up in knots. That was never good. Nope. Not ever. He had to relax. Chill. Rufioh looked down the path, down towards the little river where the lake let out on its trek to the sea, down towards the ‘civilized world’ and past the Duke’s estate.

Rufioh managed to calm himself. The Duke. That’s what all the little ones called The Cyberist. And o had Rufioh. Up until he started seeing Horuss. Up until he was sneaking in and out of that estate every other weekend to kiss his secret boyfriend and do secret lover things.

Like kiss.

Rufioh was grinning like a dope as he looked down that garden path. Waiting, it was a little easier thinking of secret kisses and his secret boyfriend who was alright. Right?

Rufioh bit his lip. What if something had happened? Why was Horuss late? The mental cycle of dopey grins and worry began anew.

***

To race out of the gardens while trying to be discreet was harder than it looked. Horuss would know. Had he become something of an expert at it these last few perigees… these last few seasons. Horuss clutched the little box to his chest and checked the strap over his shoulder keeping his fishing pole in place.

All was well.

Save the fact he was late.

“Poor Rufioh…” Horuss muttered, slipping past the last line of hedges and into the woodlands. “He must be worried sick.”

Horuss was only half right. Rushing a little more now that he was out of view of the sprawling stone manor and manicured lawns, Horuss smiled. The air, crisp and clean and slightly sterile as winter rolled in off the mountains, invigorated him in a way only clean things like metal and wire and literature and flying could.

Fishing for migrating pine trout with Rufioh would be a great way to get the steam-powered robot off his mind.

***

Things were boring. Things were always boring for a fish princess, a ‘fincess,’ who was tired of luxury and responsibility. So Meenah did what she did best this past half sweep. She followed Horuss.

Looking in from the outside, she admitted she’d never respect a troll so dreadful as to follow that sweaty hoofbeast in troll skin around. But ohhhh the fun she could have at that lithe little maroon girl’s expense.

Such fun.

Meenah was even getting used to nature. Sort of. Good hiking boots, imported from the North with swirly golden accents helped her crunch on lowly leaves. A nice wool coat from the South, where all the best wool and leather came from, shielded her delicate freckled skin from the winds.

She had to look good. A fincess had to instill respect even if they were harassing the living hell out of a civilian. Meenah wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Well…” Meenah whispered to herself. “If Miss high and mighty pastel cuttlefish would let me out of the palace with my trident… Yeah. That’d pull this getup together real nice.”

Meenah shrugged, trailing behind Horuss as he skipped…

“Oh my God that dork is skipping…” Meenah covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. This fucking loser was killing her. A mutant lowblood boyfriend and an odd fascination with school wasn’t enough. Nope. Horuss had to skip through the woods like a three sweep old. “Freaking nerd…”

***

Damara, still perched in her maple tree adorned with hearts and tire swings, watched as the branches swirled around her in the chilly breezes. That… no.

“No…” She muttered to herself, hand on her stomach as it knotted.

A blueblood was making his way down the trail. And no… No… _No…_ This boy… this intruder was just as the pink menace described him. Damara clawed at her hip, looking for her rusty saber. OF all days she would forget it.

Now she couldn’t confront this stranger. Nope. She needed some sort of authority here at home. Rufioh wasn’t enough. Not anymore. Clearly not anymore.

Sleek black hair pulled in a ponytail blew about in the autumn wind. She watched it pull to and fro, around Horuss’ face. Around Rufioh’s too. She clawed at the tree, nails raking over her own initials. Not even with some romantic high blood hair obscuring her view could it be hidden.

Her boyfriend, her _matesprit,_ was kissing another boy.


	15. Chapter 15

At some point, everyone snaps. Sometimes it’s a little hairline crack in their façade. Other times it’s the equivalent of snapping a femur clean in two.

Damara refused to do either.

Somewhere deep in her heart she refused to believe it. In her mind though? In her mind she knew better. She knew this was inevitable. Rufioh was too irresponsible with his food, never mind his matesprit. But was she even his matesprit anymore?

Was it even worth it?

The fall air hit her like a grey brick, subtle in appearance but no less blunt as it smashed her over the head. Shivering some, she huffed. It hurt. It hurt and she had no idea why. Rufioh was nothing more than a childish burden. A drain. A mess waiting to happen. So why did it hurt?

“ ~~Because…~~ ” Damara mumbled to herself. “ ~~Because I was so dumb. I was so dumb. I let it drag out…~~ ”

She huffed as she trudged through fallen leaves and up the hill. She had more important things on her plate. Right? Right. She huffed again and sighed, entering the little ramshackle village she and the others called home. This… all of this was her responsibility.

Wrigglers and runaways and ruins were all she had and that’s all she wanted.

The last thing she wanted was a smug pink fish with a bad attitude and a gaudy coat standing in her way.

“Hey there gill,” Meenah said, a mocking smirk slapped on her face.

“ ~~Get out of my way~~.”

Meenah frowned. “That’s no way to talk to your best gullfriend.”

Damara, eyes burning like red=hot daggers, exhaled sharply through her nose. “ ~~You are no friend of mine fishbitch~~.”

Meenah gasped in mock shock. “Blasphemy. Our friendship is the truer and bluer and deeper than any ocean or sea.”

“ ~~I said bite me!~~ ”

“Oh, testy I sea. What a shame though, we had so much to gosship atrout today.” Meenah smiled, flicking her arm upwards. A golden trident, polished and gleaming bright even on an overcast day, slipped up to poke at Damara’s chest. “Sea lil gill, we gonna talk. And you’re gonna deal with it.”

***

Horuss reclined into Rufioh, back against that warmblooded boy’s chest. In his hands were the little creations…. His favorite little things. These past perigees had been a whirlwind and nothing inspired an artist like a whirlwind. Uncurling his fingers, he let the little silver moth with cobalt glass wings flutter about.

“Can you commune with the little fellow Rufioh?” Horuss asked.

“Huh?” Rufioh blinked and watched the robotic creature hover about their heads. “You know doll, I’m not really sure. I’ve never really had any practice on robo-critters before.”

“You could always start now,” Horuss said with a gentle smirk. Here, in the woods, far from the rules and etiquette of the court, it was alright to smile. So Horuss took that opportunity. After all, Rufioh gave him a pretty good reason to break the rules. All of the rules.

“I really don’t think that’s gonna do much doll… but alright. For you. I’ll try. But if my pan shorts out cause of this you better fix me up right,” Rufioh said, a half-laugh escaping him. Horuss nodded and pecked his lover’s cheek.

With a squint and a huff, Rufioh tried to focus on the mechanical moth. No… it was definitely a butterfly. Horuss had explained that to him when babbling about the design. Rufioh didn’t really pay much attention. He was lost in the way Horuss said words. The low voice, soft and rather warm, even though it did come from a coolblood.

He huffed.

“It’s a no go babe. I think I’d have to be all full of wires and sparky bits to even get what’s going on with this lil fella,” Rufioh said, the butterfly fluttering up to land on his horn. “Not to say the lil guy ain’t the coolest butterfly ever.”

“Thank you Rufioh. Hearing you say that means a lot to me.” Horuss turned, nuzzling a little into Rufioh’s neck. Carefully of course. His new de-strengthening gloves only helped so much.

“Not a problem doll… not a problem at all.” Rufioh hugged Horuss tight and smiled. This was easy.

Loving Horuss was easy.

***

“ ~~You don’t know how hard it is to love a boy who does nothing but hurt you,~~ ” Damara spat, sitting in a rickety chair opposite of Meenah. Her treehive was decidedly more feminine than Rufioh’s, but no less dilapidated. “ ~~Hell, you don’t even know what it’s like to get hurt like that.~~ ”

“Maybay I do, maybay I don’t. You tell me gill, you seem to be making a lot of assumptions over and over again. Right or wrong,” Meenah said with a chuckle, trident clutched in her hand.

“ ~~Shut it,~~ ” Damara snapped. At this point, trident or no trident, she was flushed burdundy, the tips of her ears burning hot as she clenched her fists. “ ~~You and your snotty good for nothing highbloods come running through our village like it’s some fancy ass hike where you get bottle mountain spring water and caviar on toasted crackers. But it’s not. So you think it’s going to be so much fun destroying our way of life~~.”

Meenah snorted. “Your way of life? Honey, that mutant freak isn’t a way of life. He’s a flimsy cheater and you need to get over it. Don’t be so dramatic.”

Damara huffed. “ ~~You think this is only about him? _Really?_ I have more important things to worry about. Like culling. Like these kids. Like these hives and feeding dozens of wrigglers and making sure everyone has clothes on their backs for the winter.~~”

Meenah scoffed. “You’re afraid of a lil culling?” She laughed. “You’re not fooling me, Megido. You’re ancestor could put you gup in a real fincy place. Hell, it’d be only second to my hive. The Diplomat is a very influential woman after all.”

“ ~~I don’t care!”~~ Damara slammed her fist on the little table next to her. “ ~~I ran away for a reason you narrow-minded bitch! And I am not about to give up sweeps of hard work and dedication because some wader like you thinks they can barge in anywhere they like and take and twist and destroy a person’s life. You _or_ that dumb blue pony boy.”~~

“Ahh…” Meenah said, smiling. “So that’s what this explofin is all atrout. You’re still ticked your floozy boytoy fell for a blueblood. Well, then next time you ought to step up your game and do better than a sweaty buoy with a thing for hoofbeasts.”

“ ~~There is more to it than that you dumb fucking wader!”~~ Damara shouted, standing now. Her chair fell back. “ ~~You put me and my… my… my _family_ in danger. These kids. Me. Rufioh too, even with all of his faults…~~ ”

Meenah cut her off with a laugh. “You don’t love him. You don’t care about that buoy. If you did you would have fought for him.

Damara flushed deeper maroon. “ ~~Then maybe I will, you bitch.~~ ”

%MCEPASTEBIN%


	16. Chapter 16

A lady never uses her telekinetic powers in a disruptive manner. That’s what all the etiquette books said. Granted, Damara never bothered to pick up an etiquette manual no matter how much her ailing ancestor pressed. There was no need.

Runaways didn’t need etiquette.

And they sure as hell didn’t need restraint when pursuing a cheating matesprit and his good for nothing blueblooded boyfriend.

She stalked down the path, energy pulsing through her like a rabbit in a race. Fists clenched at her side, eyes welled up with tears, Damara headed for the lake. It didn’t help that the pink menace was following on her heels, twirling a trident in one hand.

But right now? She could have the entire Beforan culling force on her tail and it wouldn’t matter. There were matters to tend to.

Leaves crunched under her feet, her knuckles white, her eyes trained on her destination.

***

Fishing was a failed endeavor but neither Horuss nor Rufioh cared much. They had time together and that’s all that mattered. Horuss stood up and hopped off the boulder at the water’s edge, his boots planting firmly on the rocky shore. He offered a gloved hand up to Rufioh, who took it and fluttered down from his perch.

“Thanks doll,” Rufioh said, stealing a kiss on Horuss’ cheek.

Horuss had learned how not to blush, how not to smile, how to contain himself and act like a proper gentleman of the court. Right now, however? Who cared? He blushed a bit and let out a little sigh of contentment, almost whinnying.

He was weird like that.

Rufioh didn’t mind.

Lacing their fingers together, they pulled close and started along the path towards Rufioh’s little ramshackle village. If one could even call it that. Treehives, especially to Horuss, weren’t much for a hive. Then again, the poor boy had only ever lived in a ritzy townhive and a sprawling royal estate in the country.

Had he offered Rufioh a room? Yes. Did Rufioh ever really give it consideration? Yes. Did the offer amount to anyone actually moving? No, of course not. Rufioh had appearances to keep up. And like he said to Horuss time and time again, he could never leave Damara alone with all those kids to look after. They needed him. He was their little bit of stability. He was their role model.

Not the best troll for either job, but he fit the bill.

***

The world around Damara was a blur of greys and energy. Her skin was charged, crackling with psychic energy. How long had it been? How long had it been since she last even used these powers? When was the last time she even thought about them? She didn’t know. She didn’t care. Right now all that was on her mind where those two bastards and how she was going to right everything.

Meenah followed behind her, still twirling her trident, still snickering. Finally, after weeks of being banished to this backwater part of the Empire to be babysat by that oaf Cyberist Darkleer, the one true heir was getting the entertainment she deserved.

“ ~~I’m warning you fishbitch, get the fuck out of here if you know what’s best for you,~~ ” Damara hissed, her East Beforan tongue making the sound come out like a rapid fire attack.

Meenah scoffed.

“ ~~Don’t say I didn’t warn you.~~ ”

With a sweep of one hand and a twitch of her eye, Damara lifted Meenah off of her feet and slammed her into a tree. There was a harsh cracking sound. Was it the wood or bone? Damara didn’t know. Damara didn’t care. She carried on, stalking down the hill on her mission to find her no-good cheating matesprit.

***

There were a few kisses, a few from Rufioh to Horuss and a few from Horuss to Rufioh, as they walked along the lakeshore. It was calm. Nice. Rufioh squeezed his lover’s hand and sighed.

“You know what doll?” Rufioh asked.

“Yes? Is something the matter Rufioh?”

“Not at all. Well… kinda? It’s hard to explain.” Rufioh said, stopping in his tracks and turning to Horuss. Looking at the ground, avoiding eye contact in earnest, he sighed again, even as a faint smile appeared on his lips.

“What’s the matter dear?” Horuss asked. He reached forward, his gloved hand pawng at Rufioh’s. De-strengthening technology was a life saver, literally, and made holding hands all the more plausible. Right now? It was needed. The hand holding and the de-strengthening. Horus pulled closer to Rufioh and lifted up his sunglasses. “Rufioh? Did something happen?”

“No, no it’s not that Horuss. Not that at all just…” Rufioh trailed off before heaving a deep sigh. “I think I’m going to talk to Damara and call it off. You know… me and her. I think it’s time to end it all with her.”

“You’re damned right it is!”

Rufioh and Horuss jumped. The accent was thick and the voice cracked through the autumn air like a whip. A sweat started up on Horuss’ brow and Rufioh’s wings twitched as they turned to face her.

Damara Megido had crashed their party at long last. And it didn’t _not_ look good.


	17. Chapter 17

Rufioh had only ever seen Damara like this, crackling with psychic energy and scowling as if trying to scare off the most evil of beast, once before: when he met her. But back then, back when they were still hopeless kids in the middle of the woods, it was springtime and everything was green and wet.

Now? It was autumn, several sweeps later, and the world was grey and brown and chilly. Now? Damara wasn’t looking to defend herself. No. She was out for a kill and Rufioh knew it.

He stepped back, hands up and gaze down. He sighed. “Damz, it’s all cool… we were… uhmmm… just coming to get you. See this is Horuss and he’s a friend and…”

Damara screamed, fists clenched, eyes welling up with tears. “Lie! You only lie! Let me tell you in your dumb language. Make it easy for you. You lie!! To me! For perigees!”

“I…” Rufioh froze; mouth open, eyes still wide in fear.

Horuss stepped forward. A hint of a glower flickered across his face and he flipped his goggles up. Eyes trained on Damara for a brief moment, he turned and pat Rufioh’s shoulder as if trying to dismiss him. “Miss Megido is it? Please calm down; we shall talk about this as civil trolls. I can tell no doubt you are a civil girl at pusher…”

A cackling laugh cracked through the chilly air. The three of them turned to look uphill, from where Damara came, and noticed a stumbling and bruised Meenah laughing at them all. Horuss turned blue in the face, a sweat starting up at his brow as Meenah continued to wobble down the hillside.

Damara shook; her psychic energy coursing through her body. She raised an arm, and without another word flung Meenah from the leafy hillside into the chilly lake. There was a howl and a splash and both Horuss and Rufioh stepped back.

**_Crack._ **

Damara Megido just threw the princess of the entire planet into a lake.

They gulped, took yet another step back and looked up at the girl with the crackling white energy surrounding her. Horuss collected himself much quicker than Rufioh. He stepped forward.

“Miss,” he said, tone gruff and low, face cast in a stoic glance, his mouth a thin line of seriousness. “Miss this must stop at once. You are misbehaving in the most uncivilized of manners, going so far as to injure the Heiress. And for what?”

Rufioh dropped his gaze from Damara to Horuss. A chill wave of regret coursed through his veins. Or perhaps it was just another autumn breeze.

“For nothing,” Horuss said. Rufioh snapped out of his little trance of shame and listened. His boyfriend… the ‘other’ troll, was addressing the situation. This very situation. The mess at hand. This. Rufioh pinched himself, trying to dispel the mindlessness running around in his head. He couldn’t focus. He couldn’t think. This was all too much.

“No. Not nothing,” Damara hissed, her voice dropping low. “I love Rufioh. I love him much. And you take him.”

Horuss scoffed at the broken language and the entire insinuation. “I did not take him from you. This?” Horuss said, gesturing from himself to his lover. “This is nothing. A scandalous affair to break up my humdrum noble duties.”

“What…?” Rufioh asked, his voice low, feeble and lost on the cool air. “Horuss…”

“Enough.” Horuss held up his hand to silence Rufioh. “I am trying to address the situation. Hold your tongue.”

Rufioh went wide eyed and fell silent.

“Miss Megido…” Horuss said, speaking louder now. “I don’t want your matesprit. Don’t fool yourself. There’s nothing about…”

Damara flung Horuss to the side, smashing him into a tree. The wood cracked, splintered, as Horuss fell to the ground, dazed and bruised. Rufioh shouted, running to his mate of unknown status and fell to his knees. He froze. Hands shaking as Horuss bled, his nose dripping blue down onto his lip.

“He’s… out cold.”

“ ~~Like he should be.~~ ” Damara said, snorting a laugh. Her body lurched forward, shoulders hunched, face down, her eyes trained on Rufioh as she stalked forward on her telekinetic ride. “ ~~Didn’t you hear him? You’re nothing but a toy. A little puppet to brighten his time at ‘the court’ over beyond the fancy gardens. You’re just another slab of meat to him~~.”

“No…” Rufioh whispered, wiping Horuss’ face clean, hands still shaking.

“YES!” Damara shouted, lifting Rufioh up with her psychic charge. Rufioh gasped, breathing hard as Damara held him rigid, floating over the leaves and rocks, glaring at him with angry eyes. Darkened eyes laced with a sinister hunger.

“Damara… please…” Rufioh choked, his throat constricting some.

“ ~~Please? _Please?!_~~ ” Damara said, mocking voice cracking out past her lips. “ ~~You hurt me Rufioh. And you didn’t think twice. You didn’t think at all. And now you’re all worried for a slimy blueblood that used you to get his knickers in a pleasant little knot. You’re nothing but a toy for him to get off on.~~ ”

“Don’t say that… please doll…” Rufioh said, gasping a bit like a fish out of water.

“ ~~DON’T CALL ME YOUR DOLL!~~ ” Damara screamed.

A dripping wet trident smashed Damara upside the head, a huffing and gasping princess… no… _fincess,_ snarling as Damara flew to the side. “Bitch you really need to learn your place…”

Meenah huffed, sticking her trident in the soil, watching as Rufioh crumpled to the ground, gasping as he reached up and held his throat. It hurt, but not enough to stop him from crawling over to Horuss, tears spilling down his face and onto his lover’s.

“Doll…” Rufioh croaked, his throat starting to bruise from the psychic chokehold.

There was another splash. Rufioh looked up to see Meenah was gone. He huffed, hand slipping under Horuss in an effort to drag him out of this mess. But it was no good.

A rabid Damara, eyes clouded in energy and rage, face and dress splattered in maroon, stumbled up.

On any usual day Damara could be elegant in a twenty sweep out of fashion dress, hair swept up into a tousled bun, her pewter complexion looking as if it had been moisturized with dew. Her voice sounded like a songbird. Her eyes glimmered like little garnets.

Now though? Right now there stood a tigress on the hunt and Rufioh was playing the part of prey.

_**Crack.** _


	18. Chapter 18

Damara snapped.

There was no other way to put it. No flowery highblood poetry could do the situation justice. No amount of medical diagnoses and psych evaluation could do better. Damara had snapped and that was that.

Rufioh didn’t move. Something in had snapped as well; something physical and beyond painful. Something that robbed him of his consciousness.

Off to the side, crumpled up on the leafy ground, shrouded in a mess of black hair and a fine wool coat laid a troll with a killer nosebleed. Horuss heaved, his lungs still recovering from the winding. With a titan effort, he lifted his head and peered through his disheveled mane.

“Rufioh…”

Damara snapped her gaze from the crumpled fairy to the beaten horse. She sneered, the white energy of her telekinetic power still crackling around her in an eerie aura. She cackled, her posture shifting from a needle to a noodle, her shoulders slumping as she hovered closer to Horuss.

“ ~~See what you’ve done?~~ ” she asked, her accent still thick and unrelenting. “ ~~See? You use a lowblood to get your kicks and all that comes of it is a dead boy. Maybe two…~~ ”

Horuss shuddered, reaching out towards Rufioh with a gloved hand. He clawed at the ground, leafs crumbling to dust in his strong grip, ground pulling up some. Dragging himself along, body aching, eyes watering, nose still bleeding, Horuss groaned. Everything hurt.

“It’s not like that…” Horuss said in a hushed tone, speaking more to the earth in his hands than the troll hovering above him.

“ ~~Oh?~~ ” Damara cooed, batting her eyelashes. “ ~~So you _can_ understand me? Who tutored you in East Beforan? Some lowly slave in a collar I bet. That’s what we all are to you, huh?~~ ~~Then what was this thing with the bastard fairy, pony boy?~~ ”

Damara flicked her wrist. Horuss floated up and then smacked into another tree not too far from Rufioh. He howled. The pain, a searing bolt of heat and agony, shot through his legs. And yet… he was a blueblood. He was made of tougher stuff than the usual troll.

“Rufioh…” Horuss whimpered, reaching out again, slowly, shaking more, trying to drag himself closer.

“ ~~So what is it then?~~ ” Damara said with a sneer, her fingers twitching, itching for another crack and snap and outpouring of power. Power over Horuss. Power over her no-good ex-mate. Power over her situation.

It felt good.

After perigees… no _sweeps_ of being shoehorned into responsibilities of the involuntary kind, Damara had a choice at hand. Damara had power. Damara had control and the feeling was more than she could have ever imagined it to be.

She could be exactly what she wanted: a troll of her own design and nothing less.

“You shouldn’t have hurt him…” Horuss cried out, the pains in his chest getting only worse. “That’s why I said what I did. To… protect him.”

Damara cocked her head to the side like a lost puppy. Then she laughed. With a wave of her hand and another crack of power, she flung Horuss against the rocks where he and Rufioh had been fishing. Horuss screamed.

The sound was harsh and garbled as Horuss face-planted into the ground, leaves and dirt muffling his voice. It hurt. All of it hurt. Rufioh being a crumpled mass of wings and ragged clothes hurt most of all. With a groan, Horuss pushed himself up and began crawling back towards Rufioh.

He was a blueblood.

It was his responsibility to care for the weak and the downtrodden and especially the lowbloods. Horuss had heard his ancestor refer to it more than once as the blue blood burden, but thought nothing of it. Why would he? He had Rufioh. Was a scandal and the secrecy a burden? Sure. Was a mutant troll runaway living in the woods a burden? Sure.

But Rufioh was more than that. Rufioh wasn’t a burden. Rufioh could never be a burden.

Clawing at the earth, Horuss grunted, the trickle of blood from his nose only making it harder to breathe. The broken ribs didn’t help.

“ ~~You just don’t give up, do you ponyboy?~~ ” Damara asked before clicking her tongue in disdain. “ ~~I guess you must have been the same way in coon for Rufioh to latch onto such a scummy snob like you. Isn’t that right ponyboy? You went at him like a hopbeast in the spring, didn’t you?~~ ”

Horuss pushed himself up and wiped at the blood on his mouth. No amount of hurt and social etiquette could stop him from screaming.

“SHUT UP YOU PSYCHO BITCH!”

Everything fell silent. The wind even seemed to still. The sounds of the lake beating against the rocks felt distant. Damara smirked, the lines on her face twisting into a dark grin. She cackled, the sound rising and cutting through the woods like a knife. Horuss took a half-step back and grunted.

“ ~~Oh I see there’s a bit of rage behind the fine young gentleman who had taken to fucking my matesprit like a hopbeast~~ ,” Damara said, sneering a bit and waging her finger at Horuss. “ ~~Or were you more of a pony? I heard bluebloods are hung like hoofbeasts.~~ ”

“Stop.” The sound escaped Horuss’ lips like a low growl. Holding his side, he stumbled over to Rufioh, doing his best to ignore Damara and her crackling powers.

“Do you really think you are in a position to tell me what to do?” Damara said, smiling, drawing closer. “Hmmm ponyboy? You’re a few good smacks from death. You ought to hold your tongue.”

Damara snapped her fingers.

Horuss gasped, his tongue yanked out with a glow of telekinetic force surrounding him. He clawed at his throat, the muscles contracting involuntarily at the pressure Damara induced. It hurt. But nowhere near as much as the ache in his pusher when he saw Rufioh still crumpled up on the ground.

**_CRACK!_ **


	19. Chapter 19

Heaving, the autumn air flitting through her gills like a chilled knife, Meenah gripped her doubled-sided trident and shook the lake water from her hair. Had she not been doused, twice for that matter, the fire in her eyes would be burning the forest down.

“Gill, you done crossed a line. You ain’t _ever_ gonna get outta here alive!” Meenah screamed, charging at Damara. Not that she had to.

Damara was on the ground, a gash along her cheek from where Meenah had clonked her with that heft golden weapon of hers. A trickle of maroon streamed from that wound, dripping slowly along her features, soft and passive until she snapped back to attention.

The lines along her face, the scowl deepening them in a harsh light, only made her look less like a girl forsaken and more like a beast. Everything boiled up in that young lady, a runaway, a lost child in the woods, and she floated up, smashing Meenah against a tree.

The two girls exchanged blows. Coming together in a flurry of grey and gold and glowing white.

Horuss didn’t care. Not in the slightest.

Crawling along, the blood on his face marred by sweat and broken bits of leaves and tears, Horuss dragged himself to Rufioh’s crumpled form. That poor mutant boy. That poor lowblood with weak bones and inactive muscles just lay there.

Horuss shook. No. Now was not the time for some pity, not even if that’s what his people called love. Horuss shuddered and reached out, gloved hand grasping weakly at Rufioh’s shoulder. He shook. And in turn, Rufioh shook.

“Ru…” Horuss mumbled, gasping a bit. “Rufioh please…” Horuss said, tears welling up in his eyes. “Please wake up Rufioh… please…”

Horuss pulled closer, heaving himself up, kneeling beside his unmoving lover. Slipping his arms under that limp body, Horuss pulled Rufioh to his chest, cradling his head to his shoulder, the tears spilling down his face, off his chin, and into the streaked-red hair.

“Please… come back… please Rufioh…”

Meenah and Damara were still at arms, a tree cracking as Damara flung the princess against its side. Meenah howled, a splatter of blood flying from her lips as she shuddered, the pain coursing through her body. She turned her head, spotting Horuss by that big rock, cradling the limp body of…

She screamed. “GET HIM OUT OF HERE YOU GIT!”

Horuss snapped to attention, his gaze focused only on the order his Princess had given him. The pain seemed to ebb away as he stumbled up. No broken bones could stop him from following an order; especially when it came to helping his lov— no— his matesprit.

Horuss nodded and stumbled up the leafy hillside. “Yes, Your Highness…”

Damara looked from Meenah to Horuss and back to Meenah again.

This was a tough call. Pursue beating the shit out of the troll that had caused her the mental anguish all these past few perigees or pursue the two that had given her the ammo and brought her into the woods in the first place.

Decisions… decisions…

Damara grinned wide, the dark look of a rabid creature in her eyes. She bolted, zooming towards the hillside where Horuss was struggling to escape with Rufioh.

Meenah hissed. “Noh no you don’t...” she muttered, leaping after the lowblood with a determined, yet sinister look in her eyes.

Damara screamed as Meenah pinned her to the hillside, only a mere foot or so away from Horuss. She reached out, grasping at his ankles. Meenah yanked at her hair, making a howl echo out through the woods.

Horuss scrambled away, tugging his leg from Damara’s grasp.

“Go!” Meenah commanded. “I’ll hold the psycho bitch off…”

Horuss had no mind to chide Meenah for the language. Horuss had no time to think. Nodding, the dried blood on his face flaking a bit, he turned and resumed stumbling uphill and away from the fight. He huffed, holding Rufioh close, still careful not to crush him in his arms.

“It’ll be alright… I swear on my life Rufioh, you’re going to be alright,” Horuss choked out, a cry fighting to get out of him. But he was strong. He was stronger than most people gave him credit for, both in muscles and mind.

“I’ll take care of you Rufioh… I swear,” Horuss said, stumbling uphill. Stumbling… stumbling… stumbling…

Horuss tripped. Rufioh spilled from his arms. Crying out, Horuss scrambled forward, rushing to Rufioh’s side. He was a mess. Both of them were. Yet, amidst the woods and the winds and the blood and the tears, Horuss had to remain vigilant. Horuss had to remain composed. Horuss had to remain on point. Rufioh was counting on him.

Horuss reached out, scooping Rufioh up and into his chest once more. “I’ve got you…”

Rufioh’s wings twitched.

His head moved a bit, a groan escaping his lips.

Horuss began to sob. “You’re okay… oh thank God you’re okay…Rufioh you’re okay…”

“Is that all I am?” Rufioh mumbled out, looking up at Horuss, tears and blood littering his face. “Is that it? Am I just a fling? Some scandal for you, doll?”

Horuss froze.

Rufioh groaned, looking away, his eyes filling with tears. “I can’t feeling my legs Horuss… I can’t feel my legs or my arms or anything… Horuss I can’t move…”

Horuss gulped and stood, holding Rufioh close. “I’ve got you… I’m going to take care of you. I promise you this Rufioh. I promise.”

Rufioh began sobbing, unable to move; unable to pull away from Horuss, unable to hide away even as they passed through Rufioh’s village of runaways. Rufioh turned his head, watching his treehive pass by, the mossy siding and dingy windows seeming all the more grey with the pain and the weather. It hurt to say the least. And there was nothing anyone could do to fix it.

Rufioh thought he had been loved.

Horuss kept stumbling along the forest path, blood still streaming from his nose, his leg starting to limp. It hurt to say the least. He thought everything had been so innocent.

Horuss never thought he would fall in love.


	20. Chapter 20

Charging down the wooded path, as fast as his bruised blueblood body could go, Horuss clutched to Rufioh’s limp body, his battered face pressed to Horus’ chest, one hand on the back of his head to keep him from jostling about too much. It was too much though. All of it. This mess the two of them had gotten into was too much to handle.

His boots padded along, a soft thud-thump along the fallen leaves on the soft ground. Hair streaming behind him, caught in the wind every now and then. Horuss looked down to check over Rufioh for the several hundredth time in the last ten minutes.

He was okay.

So far.

The grounds, still green even in the chill of autumn, loomed ahead. Horuss could see them through the last of the undergrowth. His ancestor’s estate was close. So close. Horuss steadied Rufioh in his arms, still sprinting.

Everything hurt. Horuss cringed some, the adrenaline still there, still pumping through his veins, still making his body run on a coolblooded fire. Fear. There was nothing but fear and regret and remorse (but mostly fear) running rampant through Horuss. Rufioh deserved better. Rufioh deserved better than a dingy treehive and a rabid ex-matesprit and food he scrounged from the woods and the trash and from wherever else those lost trolls got their sustenance. Rufioh deserved better than a secret boyfriend. Rufioh deserved better than… him.

Horuss’ eyes had been brimming with tears the entire run back to the estate. Now though, now with a gallon of fear and a quart of remorse in his gut, tears spilled from his eyes, meandering down his cheeks, only to drop off his chin and into Rufioh’s hair.

He came up on the estate from the front drive. Circling around hadn’t been something he planned, it was just something his feet did of their own accord. It was an action rooted in his subconscious. In irony. Several perigees ago he had come to this countryside palace with a façade of stoicism and uptight mannerisms that would make a casual observer wonder if a broomstick up the ass was involved. Now? Now tears, and agony, and everything un-gentlemanly according to stuffy old journals on etiquette, it all washed over him in a never ending fountain of huffing sobs. Horuss was consumed with emotion.

The car, off to his right and just coming in from a weekend drive to the city, went quiet. Two trolls appeared, a lithe cerulean girl and a hulking mass of blueblooded muscle.

It was Aranea. It was also the Duke, also known as The Cyberist Darkleer, also known as Horuss’ ancestor.

And for once, for once in the stretch of time since he had left the care of lusus and entered into the estate, the royal scene, the public eye, Horuss could care less what anyone else felt at that moment. He ran up to his steam-powered giant of an ancestor and wept, bloody and clutching a bloody boy in his arms.

“Help! Please!” Horuss’ voice was loud, cracked… hoarse even.

The Cyberist Darkleer blinked behind dark spectacles. “What in the world…”

***

Refusing aide to a warmblood was an unthinkable offense against the order of the Empire. Her Majesty, Her Imperial Radiance, had made it her duty, no, her mission, to care for all the infirm and lesser fortunate. As a close friend, the Cyberist Darkleer understood. He took her decrees to heart. He followed the law.

And yet… he could not help but stand in his office, bearing down on Horuss, eyes locked in a permanent state of disbelief and disappointment. The young boy would be tended to. A paralyzed troll was to be cared for. That, however, was not The Cyberist Darkleer’s most pressing matter. It’s as if all the steam had finally run its course through his pistons, cooled, and let the machine rest. The giant automaton had stopped. That’s what Horuss had thought.

He was wrong.

The gloves came off in one swift motion. And then came the smack, backhanded and cold, right across Horuss’ cheek. He crumpled to the floor, sliding up against the wall several yards from where his ancestor stood, heaving and huffing. The steam and electricity had rebooted. The machine was at work again.

“ _How dare you?!_ ” Darkleer shouted, his voice coming out like a poisonous gas. “How dare you create such a scandal under my care? How dare you sully our line’s name with such frivolity and unbecoming manners? After all I have done for you! Horuss Zahhak, you _disgrace_.”

The words hurt more than the hit. Even after Damara’s blows and then the laborious trek to the estate… Even with the strength of an angry machine-man tossing him across the room like a doll, the words hurt the most.

Horuss exhaled. He couldn’t cry. He wouldn’t cry. Not after everything. Not after what had happened to Rufioh. Not in front of his ancestor.

Yet here he was, hot tears sliding down his cheeks, staining his bruises and bandages. Aranea had spent so much time patching him up and here he was, angry tears and all, ruining the attempt at healing.

Horuss stood.

“Shut _up!”_

Everything froze. Time seemed to take a sudden interest in the proceedings and had stopped midstride. Darkleer was staring, hard, icy blue eyes trained on his descendant. His _disgrace_ of a descendant. Steping forward, Darkler tilted his head down, staring with even more icy disdain. Horuss could have sworn he heard the gears work with each twitch of a muscle.

Slapping himself mentally, Horuss composed himself. Before him wasn’t some infallible machine; some gold plated bundle of gears and cogs and pistons. No. Regardless of the emotion-free coolness Darkleer regaled his descendant with over the past seasons, Horuss had just come to realize, this creature in front of him was a flawed troll like any other.

“Excuse me?” Darkleer asked, his voice low and almost rumbling, as if someone had locked Horuss in one of the interior rooms of the estate during a nasty thunderstorm. “What did you just say to me?”

“I said shut up!” Horuss flushed navy. Shaking some, he heaved himself up, shoulders back, bruised and pained face focused solely on the Duke. “Shut up shut up shut up you dense ignoramus!”

“How dare yo—”

“How dare _I?_ How dare _you?_ ” Horuss shouted, fists clenching and unclenching. A sweat had started up on his brow. “How dare _you_ get on my case now, after all the affairs with lowbloods you’ve had in the past? How dare _you_ hold me to some ridiculous standard while you sit here a disgrace who can’t even stay in the _actual_ royal court for fear of social shame?

If there was one thing Horuss had learned in his perigees under Darkleer’s tutelage (besides artistry, robotics and God knows what else) it was how to argue. He could be as passive aggressive or as plain old aggressive as anyone else on Beforus.

“How dare you berate me when you barely act like I’m your descendant. You take away my lusus and lock me away in some ivory room and make me strip all my feelings down to the bone just to throw them away. You are _vile_ Equius Zahhak. And _you_ are the disgrace for treating me like some villain for finding an ounce of love in this God forsaken gilded hell hole you’ve made here for yourself.

“How dare _you_ hit me after all I’ve been through? I am your descendant! For once in you miserable life stop acting like the machines you make and show me some damned love you heartless bastard!” Horuss shouted, smacking a fist against the Cyberist’s chest. “I am tired and I am hurt and I just want Rufioh to be okay you son of a bitch!”

There was a moment where a flicker came up into Darkleer’s eyes. He was… dumbfounded? No. That wasn’t it. It was something more complex. A sudden mixture of shock, dismay, and… Horuss blinked. He had never been trained in reading emotions, after all emoting was very ungentlemanly. But… was that admiration in his ancestor’s eyes?

“Horuss.” Darkleer placed two heavy hands on the young man’s shoulders. “I apologize.”

Time couldn’t go any slower.

“I…”

“Sit.” Darkleer gestured to a chair, light, upholstered in some silky damask. Horuss focused on that, on upholstery patterns, instead of the throbbing in his head and the pounding in his chest. He sat.

“I…”

Darkleer held up a hand and squatted down in front of Horuss. “We are from a long line of trolls with high standing in our society. We are Zahhaks and in time you will take the name Darkleer as well. But,” and here the Cyberist Darkleer stopped, reaching up to take his shaded spectacles off. His eyes were wet. “But just because we share the same names does not mean we need to share the same mistakes. Do you understand?”

Horuss shook his head.

Darkleer sighed and dropped his head, staring at his feet. “When I was in my youth, under the mentorship of my ancestor…”

“The one with the clockwork?” Horuss asked. He was quiet, even as he wiped his eyes.

“Yes, but please let me finish.” Darkleer said, reaching up to wipe a tear from Horuss’ face. “When I was young and under the tutelage of my ancestor, a young Empress was starting up a new social program based on the advice of her young mutantblooded friend. It was not a perfect time in history. Warmbloods were treated like pets. And I confess, I understand that to some extent, that is still true. The Empress’s culling system is not flawless. And I assume that is why this Rufioh fellow ran away into the wilds the way he did. His mutation is quite interesting.”

Horuss shook and closed his eyes. Looking away, he bit his lips. “Stop.”

“I am not done.” Darkleer gently guided Horuss’ gaze to meet his own. “In fact, I have seen the exact same mutation before; in my youth when I was studying under my ancestor. They belonged to a charming young bronzeblooded troll who was culled into our household. He grew up with me.”

At this point Darkleer’s eyes were softer than Horuss had ever seen them. It was foreign, almost otherworldly to see his ancestor so… bare.

“He could also commune with fauna of all sorts. And he had very similar horns. He grew up to be The Shepherd, the one who oversaw the construction and management of the Imperial Conservatory and Zoological Society. He was my mate for a time. And then, like most lowbloods, he died.”

Horuss blinked. So the rumors were true. And it was more of a shock that now, now of all times when the entire world seemed to be crashing down around him, that Darkleer was telling him this.

“Why are you telling me this?” Horuss asked.

“Because…” Darkleer took Horuss hand gently. “Because you are my descendant and I do not want you to venture down that path where you fall for a charming lowblood who pulls all of your pusherstrings but who will leave you and this world before you are thirty. I thought you would respect etiquette and teachings and societies rules. But no, Horuss, you are like any other young man. And it hurts to see you have to make these same mistakes.”

Horuss blinked. His ancestor was crying. Actual tears. There was no oil and electricity here. The Cyberist Darkleer wasn’t some steam-powered robot like the young trolls would joke. No. He was a man, like any other, and he had been wounded. Now, with a descendant and more responsibilities than he truly cared for, he was trying, and failing, to prevent another mishap like he had endured when he was young.


	21. Chapter 21

The bed sheets were pristine white and softer than anything he had ever felt before. That’s what Rufioh knew. At least, well, the pillow case was. The rest of it was lost on him. Nothing from the neck down responded; there was no touch or sense or anything down there.

The tears had stopped when highbloods began fussing over him.

Rufioh had _never_ liked being the center of attention. Not really. Even when the kids would look up to him and Dam… he would get uncomfortable. Sweating under the collar so to speak. Rufioh didn’t like that. He liked fishing down at the lake. He liked flying. He liked…

The room was silent. That talkative cerulean girl with the white framed glasses was gone. Finally. She had spent most of his examination prodding the nurse and bugging her and just talking everyone’s ear off. No one needed that. No one needs a Serket around. Not when they’re potential dying. Not with internal bleeding.

Rufioh hadn’t seen Horuss once since Darkleer… Rufioh gulped. He remembered Horuss clinging to his body, refusing to let anyone near Rufioh for fear of him getting hurt. He remembered, with bleary eyes, how Horuss collapsed to his knees when Darkleer had taken his limp winged body.

There were murmurs in the hall; the kind that made Rufioh blink away tears as he recalled the looks and stares and whispers. He didn’t want this. He never wanted this. He ran from Tinkerbull when he pupated to get away from this. _This._ He didn’t want to be a pet or a perpetual victim.

Rufioh didn’t want this.

But the bed sheets were pristine and soft and he took solace in that as the pillowcase soaked up his tears. Rufioh could cry now that the room was empty save for his bed and the other ornate furniture. He took solace in the silence of the gilded moldings and the stoicism of the tall windows. He couldn’t look up of course, but staring at the ceiling he watched the shadows of branches dance around on the unfelt autumn breeze.

He could still fly of course. But it was weak and dangerous and not something he really wanted to try at the moment. He wanted to clench his fists and curl up into a ball and scream. He wanted to shake and tremble and fall apart like a normal troll. He wanted to curse Horuss and his scandals and Damara and her outlandish expectations for him. Rufioh wanted to weep.

The thing was though, you don’t weep in front of a blueblood. Or even near them. Not unless you wanted to be coddled within an inch of your life.

Rufioh wanted some coddling though.

He just wasn’t sure he could handle it being from Horuss. Not that Horuss would.

Rufioh took a deep breath. At least that chatty Aranea was gone. At least there was some peace to be had now. Not that it mattered. His insides hurt. He felt a dull warm throb in his chest and it consumed his thoughts.

An hour passed. The light coming in from the windows shifted and dimmed. With the chime of the hour, the electric lights turned on with a single flicker before evening out. Electrical lights. Rufioh sniffed and recalled when he first saw those. With Horuss.

He shifted, his neck aching, his body unresponsive.

There came a soft click of the door knob. Rufioh pressed his eyes shut, trying to squeeze out his consciousness. He didn’t want to be there. He didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to hear about all the readouts coming from the machines he was hooked up to. He didn’t want to face…

“My descendant tells me that your name is Rufioh,” came a low, slightly rumbly voice. “Is that correct?”

Rufioh slowly opened his eyes and spotted the monster of a man sitting next to him. He was… dressed down. At least from what Horuss had told him, Rufioh expected a man covered from head to toe in navy finery. He expected a lot of things that didn’t come to fruition. Rufioh gulped.

“Is it true that you’re really a steam powered soldier?” Rufioh asked. He was still a bit dazed.

There was a moment, with the lights on and the world outside darkening into autumn evening, long ago, where Darkleer smiled with a similarly mutated bronze troll. And, against all odds, Darkleer did so again. Rufioh blinked. Horuss had never mentioned that his ancestor _could_ emote. A smile? This was ridiculous.

Yet it wasn’t like Horuss didn’t lie to Rufioh before.

“No.” The rumble seemed a little rounded when it escaped Darkleer’s throat. “I am not. Though it is a popular rumor among my protégés, you should disregard it.” Darkleer sighed, the smile fading as he turned to a small leather notebook and the machines on the bedside table. The look on his face was hard to read, so Rufioh assumed the worst.

“So… sir… how bad is it?” Rufioh asked, his voice cracking a bit as he tried to put on his best formal expression. That would be hard considering he couldn’t sit up straighter and suck in his gut.

Darkleer flipped through the log of the medical examiner’s records and nodded in silence. He sighed and set it aside. Off came the spectacles as the Cyberist Darkleer looked to Rufioh. The both swallowed, trying to suppress the lumps in their throats.

“Sir?” Rufioh squeaked out.

“You have extensive internal bleeding. Had it not been for Horuss rushing you here, you would have died by now.” Darkleer’s tone was flat, emotionless, back to its inert form. “However, even with our extensive care, there is no way to reverse your handicap or stave off the inevitable.”

The last syllable of inevitable hit Rufioh’s ear and chilled him. The sheets were crisp and soft and cool, but now Rufioh was cold. He would shiver given the ability to.

“So…” Rufioh murmured, gulping. “I’m going to… you know… _die_.”

Darkleer remained quiet, hands in his lap. He sighed. “We’re going to make you as comfortable as we can here. Horuss has done everything and then some to make sure that you are in acceptable condition.”

Rufioh blinked, tears rolling down his face. There was nothing left. He was going to die like this. A fool. A pet. A curio locked away in some ivory tower with nothing to do but embrace death with open arms. No. He shook his head, still crying, still silent, still hurt and immobile.

“I can’t…”

The Duke nodded. “I know it’s hard Rufioh. I’ve seen this before. But please, rest. We are working on making this as stress free a transition as we can…”

“WE?!” Rufioh screamed, looking up at Darkleer, wanting nothing more than to pound his fists against the massive man’s chest. “Who’s we? Cause it sure as heck isn’t Horuss. He used me to get his kick and his sweep’s worth of scandal! He said so himself! Why does he care? Why does anyone care? All I am is some mutant _freak_ who people want to put in a shiny glass case so they can ogle me. Some of them kiss me, yeah, but they don’t love me. None of them love me. I’m just some toy for all of you. A pet project. A hobby. I’m not a person to you sick bastards!”

Rufioh was crying in full force now, his immobile body unable to retain any more sorrows. He was choking on air. Him, the fairy with wings of transparent bronze, was choking on air.

“I don’t… I don’t want… to be someone’s ornament anymore…”


	22. Chapter 22

It took Horuss one week of isolation and sorrow before he could speak to anyone again. His ancestor tried to understand. Part of Darkleer’s allowance of the weeping and seclusion was to contain the boy, remove him from public eye, and reduce any further rumors coming out into the open. No one needed that. Emotions were already high, much higher than society deemed appropriate, and tensions were even higher. Winter was knocking on the door and that meant trolls were staying inside. And of course, hiding from the cold meant gossip could incubate.

Darkleer was more than willing to let Horuss keep to himself. The other residents of his estate though? They were less courteous. One young lady especially so.

Aranea kept to herself as she stalked the halls. Her studies had been on hold for a few days, her mind now restless, her fingers itching to get into something, anything, to placate her need to meddle. Slipping through the halls unseen, she passed the corridor leading to the infirmary. Talking to Rufioh had gotten dull as of late.

He clammed up after a few questions the first day. Aranea pouted a lot and even prodded his mind a few times while he was asleep. Not that _that_ was a smart idea. The Cyberist Darkleer had caught her doing as much and removed her from the infirmary.

She wasn’t allowed back in since.

But she’d tell herself that Rufioh fellow was boring just to save her bruised ego.

It was a Thursday morning and the light was pale as it crossed in from the windows opposite Horuss’ bedroom door. Aranea bounced on her feet some and bit her lip. Knocking rhythmically, she sighed and waited.

And waited.

It took several minutes before she knocked again. And again. Once more…

When the door swung open, Aranea suppressed a yelp and took a step back. Not once in her perigees under Darkleer’s care had she ever seen a Zahhak in such condition. He hair was frizzy and strewn at an unnatural angle from his face. His jacket wasn’t buttoned, his feet were bare, and hisface was tinged navy and stained with dried tears.

“Horuss?” Aranea stepped closer and he sniffed, a slight scowl on his face.

“What?” he asked, his voice hoarse and low.

Aranea pursed her lips. “Hello would be a nice start you know. Manners and all.”

Horuss snorted and leaned on the door frame, brushing some hair out of his face. Looking Aranea up and down, he rolled his eyes and grunted. “Take your manners and shove it. What do you want?”

“Well!” Aranea put a hand to her chest and huffed, blushing cerulean a bit. “I must say, your change in demeanor is a shock. And I don’t really think it’s a pleasant one at that.”

“Sounds like your problem.” Horuss cleared his throat with some bravado and chewed his tongue. “Is there a point to you coming up here and being a snippy little gossip hound or what? I’m busy.”

Aranea huffed and held her head up higher. No one was going to make her feel inferior, Zahhak or not. “I do say, your behavior is rather crass and unacceptable.”

“Does it look like I care?” Horuss snapped, crossing his arms and standing up straight. “Either make this conversation worth something to me or leave me be. As I was saying, I’m busy; too busy to play any games for sure.”

“Oh my, someone’s a snappy stallion today,” Aranea said with a sneer.

“Go away.” Horuss took no time in slamming the door in Aranea’s face, leaving the conversation at that and retreating back to his bed. She was not a part of his plans. Not a part of his anything right now. Right now he needed to focus.

The knocking continued at the door for the next ten minutes but he ignored it. Strolling to his phonograph and records, Horuss drowned out the sound with experimental Southeastern Beforan drums. Now was the time to focus. Focus on the papers and his thesis and his plans.

He had no desire to have Aranea be in cahoots with him on this. Horuss had heard what she had did Rufioh. Gossip was easy to come by, and now, after perigees of living in such close quarters with the descendant of a vagabond, Horuss could believe it. So he set to work, trying to keep yet another female threat to Rufioh off his mind.

It wasn’t easy. There were nightmares still. Of Damara mostly, her claws and crackling white aura starling Horuss and keeping him up. So to drown it all out, he worked, and worked, and worked until his fingers would bleed. Not that _that_ happened all that much; only that one time that the sheet metal was two inches too small. Looking down at his bandaged finger, he huffed. It was worth it.

Thesis be damned. Ancestor be damned. Horuss knew exactly what he was going to do. Taking his plans up from the bed, he walked over to his recuperacoon and ran his hand over the surface of the sopor. It felt nice. All Horuss wanted to do was slip under the green and relax and hold…

That first night with Rufioh, the sounds and the colors and the scent of Rufioh’s hair… Horuss smacked himself with a gloveless hand. He could take it. He wouldn’t bruise. He knew he deserved it. Biting back tears, Horuss checked the figures on his plan and rolled up the blueprints.

Darkleer had said Rufioh had a perigee at the most left.

So Horuss had to act fast.

It took him an hour, a hour he felt he had wasted, to tame his hair and scrub his face clean and dress himself properly. Rolling his plans up, the large papers sliding into black canisters, he slung them over on shoulder and composed himself. There would be no more tears. There would be no more hesitation. There would be no more fights or failures or damnation.

Horuss knew how to save Rufioh.

Horuss swore that he would, whether his ancestor or Aranea or any other uptight coldblooded asshole liked it or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things to note about this au: Trolls aren't nocturnal and the upper classes have both beds and recuperacoons. I know this was pretty vague in earlier chapters but I thought I'd clear it up now that we're nearing the close.
> 
> Any questions about this fic or verse can be sent to me at [my personal tumblr.](http://robogreaser.tumblr.com)
> 
> **UPDATE:** Because of my recent computer failure, I am unable to update this fic anytime in the foreseeable future. If you'd like to know more, please consult my tumblr post [here.](http://robogreaser.tumblr.com/post/100936730288)


	23. Chapter 23

Growing accustomed to being bedridden was not fun. It was dull. It was tiresome and dull and Rufioh could have sworn he lost a few brain cells being trapped day in and day out listening to that Aranea girl’s nonsense stories. He was grumpy but he was too polite to let it show. He was sinking further and further into a pre-mortem depression but was still too polite to let it show.

It snowed the day Horuss arrived. The room was warm but the light was cold. Sterile almost. Rufioh was almost too lost looking out the windows to the casual drifting of white to notice he had entered the room. The chair scraped against the floor and Rufioh turned, tired eyes, amber and riddled in defeat, set on his… on Horuss.

“Rufioh,” Horuss said, his voice low, almost inaudible over the noise of the machine’s keeping that boy alive. “Rufioh I’m—”

“Sorry.”

“Yes.”

There was more than that, but the way Rufioh had spoken, low and rolling, like there was nothing more going on than a sleepless night in the woods, it startled Horuss. There came silence for a few moments. Horuss, inhaling sharply, the air in the room stinging his lungs with its medical smell, composed himself. If there was ever a time to listen to his ancestor and suppress emotion, it was now. So he did so. Face falling flat, he reached out, gloved hand taking a hold of Rufioh’s limp hand.

“You know I can’t… feel that,” Rufioh muttered. He blinked, looking back out the window now. “I can’t feel much of anything.”

“I know.” Horuss sighed and squeezed that hand gently. “But I can. And I just—”

“It’s fine.” Rufioh looked back over to Horuss, smiling some. He had waited for days, weeks really, to see that dumb sweaty horse again. The anger and despair could wait. That smile, no matter how faint, how weak and pale, managed to light Rufioh up like a 12th Perigee’s Eve behemoth leaving. Horuss nodded slowly, tearing up behind his glasses.

He had taken to wearing them as of late. There were dark circles, a navy smear of the most unbecoming kind, right under his eyes. Sometimes there were tears too. Sometimes he was simply bloodshot eyed and needed to hide it. It didn’t matter. The Cyberist had suggested it. Horuss obliged. He owed his ancestor that much after all of the hell he had caused him.

The gossip was everywhere, from the sea through all the landdwelling courts. The Zahhaks had taken in a vagabond. The Zahhaks were nothing more than bronze-fucking lunatics. The Zahhaks…

Horuss shook his head.

“Rufioh, I do believe after all my work and research, there is a way to… how do I put this?” Horuss paused for a moment. Rufioh pursed his lips and huffed. “There is a way to—”

“It doesn’t matter.” Rufioh cut Horuss off and sighed. “I’ve accepted my fate. It’s alright Horuss…”

“Will you stop cutting me off? I am trying to—”

“Why?!” Rufioh said, the volume catching Horuss off guard. “Horuss you _always_ did this to me. You grumpy son of a jerk. You always cut me off when I talked about my cards or my comics and made me feel like I was rambling on and on. But I wasn’t. I never was. You just couldn’t let me speak for myself and look! Look where all your dotting and bullshit got me!”

Horuss froze and looked down. There wasn’t much he could say.

“I’m sorry Horuss… That just came out of nowhere. I didn’t mean it.”

“But it’s true,” Horuss sad, voice low and trembling. “I treated you like some incompetent fool so often. Even when you were having your fun and making me feel like there was nothing wrong with the world, I always looked down on you like you were some dolt. And it did nothing. I didn’t help you. I never helped you…”

Rufioh took his turn at silence. Guilt wasn’t a good color on anyone. It hurt. It hurt to feel and hurt to watch.

“You were saying something about research.” Rufioh turned his head, neck aching. All he had left was the movement above his shoulders and it sucked. It sucked to only ever be able to turn your head, the four walls, no matter how well-embellished with moldings and gilded trim, growing tiresome. It was all so monotonous. “So?”

“I…” Horuss stumbled for a second, gulping and trying to compose himself. “I might be able to save you from what everyone has deemed as your fate.”

“Really?” Rufioh asked, blinking some.

“Really.”

“What’s the deal then?” Rufioh asked.

“The most concerning part?” Horuss said, looking down. A sweat started up on his brow. Had Rufioh been able to reach out and pat him in consolation, he would have. “Well… my ancestor has forbid me from doing this. So… we must act fast.”

“Wait,” Rufioh said, pursing his lips. “You’re going to break the rules?”

Horuss chuckled some, a smile on his lips. “Haven’t I proven that when it comes to you that I’m willing to do just that?”

%MCEPASTEBIN%

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the delays in updating this and my other commissioned fics. My computer has been increasingly uncooperative and it has been hard to find the time between trying to fix it and personal projects to actually sit down and work on these fics. 
> 
> My apologies.


	24. Chapter 24

Rufioh had only ever been to Horuss’ hive a few times prior to being paralyzed. After that, he was there all the time, albeit confined to the infirmary on the north side of the estate where the sun was filtered through old and wavy glass window panes.

All the times before, he had snuck in under the cover of twilight. Once to steal food, then a half dozen times to visit his secret beau. There was always an adrenaline when sneaking through the gardens or around the large pool or through a gilded portico.

Now, with the halls and corridors passing on each side in blue of moonlit blue, that same adrenaline was back.

Horuss was breaking the rules again.

For him.

Rufioh kept himself quiet, face pressed to the crook of his not-so-secret beau’s neck. He sniffed, the plan racing through his mind like a runaway racehorse. Horuss was going to save him. Horuss was going to sacrifice his thesis, his project meant to catapult him into the social scene of Beforus and all its glitz and glamor. Horuss was going to sacrifice it to save him. That alone made both of their adrenaline run rampant in their veins.

The rushed down a few flight of stairs. The windows stopped passing by. The moonlight was gone. Now, down here under The Cyberist’s estate, the electrical lights hummed and bathed them both in a warm glow.

Everything was warm.

Horuss was risking a lot now, here, pulling Rufioh from his medical machines and monitors. He was risking the imminent death of his… He shivered, rushing down another flight of stairs, a sob catching in his throat.

“It’s alright doll, I promise…” Rufioh murmured into Horuss’ neck. “I bet you any money you’re going to do a bang up job with your crazy robo-shit. I bet.”

“Shh…” Horuss said, easing open a large steel door, more like a bank vault really, with his foot. He kissed Rufioh’s cheek and sniffed. “Don’t waste your energy Rufioh. I don’t need to be calmed right now. I deserve all the hurt compounding inside of me right now. You, on the other hand, do not. Okay?”

Rufioh snorted. “Whatever you say… whatever you say Horuss.”

Horuss nodded and made his way through his workshop. “I never got to show you my workshop you know. Granted, it would have been hard to sneak you down here with my ancestor about and all. Still—”

“Show me around then babe. It’ll be a pretty sweet tour,” Rufioh said, blinking slowly as he lifted his head some and coughed.

Horuss shook his head. “Not now. Soon.”

“Right on.” Rufioh coughed again and Horuss picked up the pace. “Is this going to hurt?” Rufioh asked.

Horuss pursed his lips as he made his way through rows of worktables littered with spare parts and shelves lines with tools. “A little. But you’re a tough troll Rufioh. You are an astonishing testament to our people’s strength and endurance and resilience.”

“Awesome…”

“I love you,” Horuss said, lying Rufioh down on a bare table, cool and shiny under the lights hanging from above.

“I love you too Horuss.” Rufioh closed his eyes and inhaled slowly. “It hurts… a lot.”

“It’ll only hurt a little while longer Rufioh. I swear it,” Horuss said, hurrying about to fetch his tools and his parts.

“But babe…” Rufioh coughed again, a little amber blood staining his lips. “You can’t swear. It’s very ungentlemanly.”

Horuss returned to Rufioh’s side, a peculiar looking syringe and scalpel in his hands. “Hush.”

***

Thesis statement be damned. That was what Horuss thought when he hatched this plan and this is what he thought every second of the operation. There were wires and blood and metal and bone. There was such a mess, but at least he had the sense to have prepared a collection system on the floor under the table. Horuss didn’t shy away from the sight of blood. Not usually. It was part of his work. It was part of his discipline. Cybernetics were a bloody business after all.

Right now though, operation nearly done, tank full of amber blood pumping away to fill the composite rubber veins, he felt ill. He shook and shuddered as he cleaned the metal of the former thesis statement.

“Rufioh…” he whispered, polishing the metal. “Please… don’t go.”

There was a moment of utter silence before Horuss heard it. There was the faintest series of clicks, like some winter bird call off in the distance. Looking up, goggles hanging off one horn, eyes blue and teary, Horuss held his breath.

“Don’t go,” he whispered again.

Click. “Mmm… I won’t.”

Horuss, in a fit of relief and carelessness, threw up his arms and clung to Rufioh’s neck. “Thank _fucking_ God!”

Rufioh snorted, a bit of steam escaping a vent on his neck. “Mmm… language babe.”

“Indeed,” a low voice called out from the door to the workshop.

Horuss turned, mortified and blue in the face, spotted his ancestor as he paced across the room to where he was clinging to his cyborg boyfriend. “S-s-sir?!”

“Do not stutter.” The footsteps clacked in an echo throughout the room. “And do not, for the love of all that is good, use such foul language in my presence again Horuss. Understood?” The Cyberist Darkleer asked.

“Yes Sir!” Horuss said, snapping to attention and bowing his head. He had done wrong, again, and broken the rules. He was doomed. Darkleer would not have this. Not now. Not ever.

“So,” Darkleer drawled out, looming over Horuss and Rufioh, the cyborg curled up on the worktable. “How did you really think this was going to turn out Horuss? That I was just going to turn a blind eye to yet another of your ludicrous outbursts of rule breaking? Perhaps you even thought that your lowblooded lover wouldn’t mind the body of a hoofbeast. Or maybe still it was—”

Rufioh picked up his head from the table. “What?” he grumbled, still weary.

“Rufioh!” Horuss turned, ignoring his ancestor once more to pat Rufioh’s cheek. “Please don’t overexert yourself. Your blood transfusion is still in progress.”

“What?” Rufioh blinked, eyes opening to reveal a subtle orange-y glow. Cybernetics looked so wonderful on him, Horuss thought. “What’s… going on doll?” Rufioh asked, leaning up look himself over.

There was a moment, perhaps a fraction of a second, where those glowing orange eyes widened in abject horror. His body, once so different, mutated even, that he was ostracized from most of society, was no more. He was sleek and shiny and covered in lights and mechanical joints.

He was a horse. He was a horse and he started to cry.

Hooved legs kicked out in a flurry, and while lying on his side on the table, all it accomplished was kicking Horuss in the shoulder. “What did you do?!” Rufioh cried, his voice fading into a digitally replicated whinny. His eyes swelled up with tears and he sobbed. “I’m a freak!”

“No, no!” Horuss said, reaching out to still Rufioh. “It’s temporary!”

“What have you done?! Look at me! I’m not even a troll anymore!” Rufioh shook his head, whinnying in distress once more. “You should have let me die!”

“No!” Horuss cried out, fighting past the kicking metal to hold Rufioh’s face. “I won’t let you go! Rufioh I’m going to make this all better! I promise. I swear. Rufioh let me help!”

“You’ve helped enough!” Rufioh shook his head free and cried into the table. “All I am is some pet to you. A freak. A toy… like any other lowblood…”

“No! You’re not!” Horuss said, reaching out to pat Rufioh’s mane. “I just… This is all I had to work with and… and…”

“No!” Rufioh sobbed, his voice shaky and cut off with some beeping noise from his body. “No, no, no! No! I can’t do this!”

Horuss froze, watching as Darkleer pried open a metal panel on Rufioh’s flank and reached a hand in. A few more beeps escaped Rufioh, some buzzing and one more kick, before he stilled. He quieted. He went to rest.

“Enough of that.” Darkleer pulled his hand back and looked to Horuss, grim expression on his face. “You have a mess to clean up, and that loudmouth was not helping.”

Horuss looked back to Rufioh to see him, motionless, eyes closed, lying on the table. Blue eyes widened and began to tear up. Horuss held a hand to his mouth to suppress the crying.

“Get to work, Horuss.”


	25. Epilogue

“I have a set of responsibilities,” Horuss said. “Respect that please.”

“Of course,” the Cyberist Darkleer responded. “I had no other objections.”

“Thank you.”

The path out of the garden was lined in late blooming apple trees, a rare cultivar planted a few weeks earlier in celebration of Horuss’ acceptance to the Court. His thesis project had blown away many of the members of the court. Apparently the Empress herself was very impressed by the application of cybernetics to aid those with various congenital disabilities.

That’s what Horuss and Darkleer had marketed the entire project as. Granted, there was inevitable failures to put on display. A good troll accepts his mistakes and learns from them after all. That’s what that ratty old etiquette manual had said anyway.

The failure, of course, being Rufioh’s mangled corpse being delivered to the Education ministry.

Darkleer had handled all the messy political ramifications. No need for Horuss to have to explain such a mess to his superiors right out of the gate after all.

That didn’t matter now. Horuss and Darkleer paced a little slower down the wooded path as they left the estate grounds. It was nice, this warm day on the onset of summer, to take a stroll. There was work at hand, of course, but it was nice to unwind away from the court for a little while. Horuss had taken well to court life, but the forest was always going to have a special place in his heart. No amount of finely embroidered jackets or shiny black cars could make him forget about the peace he felt here.

He tried so much to share that with his ancestor. Darkleer deserved it.

“So the materials for the new addition will be arriving later this week I presume?” Horuss asked, hands behind his back, hair pulled back, the glint of his buttons catching on the filtered light of the woods. “Have you spoken to the contractor as of late?”

“Everything shall be here by Saturday, to be precise. There was a delay in timber deliveries to the mill. And no. I had thought that perhaps I could take up this project as my own.” The Cyberist twidled his thumbs behind his back, gloved fingers twisted together. “As a means to connect with—”

Horuss held a hand out to his ancestor’s chest, stopping him in his tracks. “Wait.”

“What is it?” Darkleer looked around, lifting his glasses and peering into the trees.

“Did you not you hear that?”

“Did I not hear what exactly?” Darkleer asked again, pursing his lips some.

“Never mind…” Horuss said as he frowned and looked through the trees, wondering if this was it, that he might finally be losing his mind. Sighing, he kept walking, heading deeper into the woods. Darkleer frowned.

“Are you alright?” Darkleer asked, following alongside his protégé.

“Of course,” Horuss said, a little quieter. “I am simply on edge, as is custom when leaving the estate. You know how these woods affect me, yes?”

“Indeed…” Darkleer’s voice dropped as they continued along, the silence of the wood only making their silence all the deeper.

Darkleer smiled. This was good. Horuss had come so far since his indiscretions. The estate had become so much more bearable knowing Horuss was no longer up to no good. Everything was in check. Everything was in its place.

The continued for another ten minutes in silence, the wood getting greener and wilder and harder to navigate. The dirt path was washed out here and there, the spring floods only having ended a perigee prior. Darkleer could appreciate the wild beauty of such things. It was not outside of his grasp. There were even a few stray bluebells popping up a week or so late here and there. All was well.

Turning to Horuss, he smiled and patted his shoulder. “You’ve done very well with the blueprints you had shown me last evening. I do believe everything you had in mind will be completed before this autumn.”

“That is what I was hoping for Sir.” Horuss sighed and they continued walking, silence enveloping them once more.

The air was warm, but not thick with humidity yet. That would come later in the season, with whatever other materials Horuss would need to order. He stopped and looked around the clearing, the rickety houses in the trees creaking in a gentle breeze.

“We’re here my boy,” Darkleer said with a smile and a clap of his hands. Horuss nodded and smiled weakly as a few younger trolls ran out from the undergrowth and approached Horuss.

There were shouts of welcome and some joyous smiles as the swarmed the two bluebloods, a few cautiously side-eying The Cyberist as they approached. It took a few moments for Horuss to look up and compose himself.

Damara pushed the crowd aside, cigarette on her lips, patched jacket slumping off her shoulders. “ ~~You’re early.~~ ”

“Contrary to popular belief, there is no such concept as arriving fashionably late,” Horuss said with a roll of his eyes.

Damara snorted. “ ~~Whatever. So pony boy, what’s the status on your shipment? And I mean the stuff to fix the lower lodge over by the stream. I could care less about your putrid package.~~ ”

Darkleer stood tall at that and frowned. “Miss, I will ask you only once to refrain from such lewd innuendo. Understood?”

“ ~~Fine.~~ ” Damara flicked the ashes of her cigarette onto the ground and shooed away the kids swarming around here. “ ~~I expect a food delivery on Thursday. Got it?~~ ”

Darkleer scoffed. “I am a man of my word young lady. I will not go back on my promises to you and this collection of vagabonds you have gathered for yourself.”

Horuss rolled his eyes and slipped away. Damara and Darkleer had a habit of snipping back and forth before devolving into dry business talk. Horuss wanted nothing to do with it. Adjusting his glasses, Horuss calmed himself and made his way up the rope ladder.

It had been a while since he ventured up this way, to the former hunting lodge nestled in the trees. In fact, the last time he had been there, snow was flitting down from the sky and he was fetching an empty box of chocolates from a hole in the wall. Horuss sniffed.

It hurt. The smell of the wood and the slight musk of the few furnishings left in the rooms hit his nose and pulled up a few memories. He didn’t want that. Strolling about a bit, he stopped. There was a creaking sound.

Horuss sighed and kept going. Once inside he made a beeline for the little winding staircase up to where Rufioh’s old bedroom was. There was a tightness in his chest now, something akin to longing, but he tamped it down.

“What’s with the face?” A voice called out, chipper and bright. “Since when are you such a sourpuss doll?”

Horuss turned to see Rufioh, in all his metallic fairy glory, hovering behind him. “I do believe it was a mistake to make your chassis soundproof.”

“Pshaw, as if. It’s fun sneaking up on you.” Rufioh grinned, glowing eyes literally lighting up as he zoomed up and hugged Horuss.

“You remain as ludicrous as ever.”

“Thank you.” Rufioh kissed Horuss right on the lips and beeped, his hands, sleek and shiny and so very, very troll-like, reaching up to brush through Horuss’ hair. “So what’s with you sneaking about, I thought your ancestor was taking us to lunch.”

“He is…” Horuss said with a sheepish smile, hand reaching up to hold Rufioh’s gently. “How’s the charging going at night?”

“Well…” Rufioh blushed some and looked away.

“And nothing’s gotten loose?” Horuss asked.

“Not a thing babe.”

Horuss smiled ever so faintly and leaned in to kiss Rufioh’s cheek. “Are you alright?”

Rufioh smirked. “Of course I’m alright. Why wouldn’t I be?” Rufioh asked.

“I worry is all.” Horuss took a step closer to Rufioh.

Rufioh rolled his eyes and scooped Horuss up, his robotic arms hefting up the weight without a problem. Horuss yelped, as usual, and clung tight to Rufioh as he zoomed up to the top of the treehive. There was still the smell of timber and of old furniture, but as they neared the window, there was the ever-present feeling of late spring around them.

“You don’t have to worry. We’re doing alright since everything got smoothed over. Damara’s still tweaked, but Darkleer is keeping everyone happy while you keep me happy. Everyone wins, right?” Rufioh smiled and landed on the rickety balcony off of his room, looking down at the clearing and the crowd mingling around Damara and The Cyberist.

“If you say so…” Horuss said, still holding tight. The heights were still something he wasn’t very sure off. Rufioh thought, strong, solid, steel Rufioh, he was a sure thing. He was safe.

“Do you trust me?” Rufioh asked, smiling some.

“Wait…” Horuss squinted at him and peered over his glasses. “You’re not going to test those flight upgrades right—”

“I said do you trust me?” Rufioh asked again, smiling wide.

“I…” Horuss blushed and nodded. “I trust you.”

Rufioh jumped, Horuss in his arms.


End file.
